Hazel Days
by jewlbird
Summary: What if Hazel hadn't died? If she ended up with Sammy? HazelxSammy. Reviews are appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi :) So, I know you all have wondered: What would have happened if Gaea had never possesed Hazel's mother, they had never died, etc... Well, wonder no more!**

**Note: This is really more of an intro chapter... I'm gonna get more into the HazelxSammy stuff later ;)**

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><p>Hazel Levesque never really thought about how much money she had, or how much money she didn't have.<p>

Until today. Today, the day she had asked her mother for a new dress. Today, the day her mother had told her that the fortune telling wasn't so popular in the autumn. That she couldn't afford a new dress for Hazel.

She had begged her mother, begged until she had tears in her eyes, pulling on the hem of her mother's own dress. She needed this dress. She couldn't live without it.

"What do you need a dress for, anyway?" Her mother scoffed, shaking Hazel of her. A thirteen year old shouldn't be on the floor, crying to her mother. But Hazel was desperate. "The ones you have are fine."

"Mother?" Hazel sniffed. She didn't want to tell her mother that the reason she wanted the dress was for her date with Sammy. Her mother would give her the, if-a-boy-really-likes-you-they-won't-care-what-you're-wearing lecture; that was the last thing Hazel wanted right now. Besides, she never really spoke to her mother about Sammy.

"What, Hazel?" her mother asked impatiently, tapping her worn-out high-heels on floor. It made a _click-click_ noise on the tile.

"Have you ever wished we weren't so poor?" Hazel put on her puppy-dog face. Her mother hated this conversation.

But today, she glanced above her head wistfully, as watching a bird fly past her through the evening sky. Except, they were inside.

"Of course I have wished," she said. "But, some things just aren't worth it, honey." She turned away, but looked over her shoulder and said, "If he really likes you—"

"Uggh!" It looked like Hazel was going to get that speech anyway. She stormed past her mother and up the stairs. When she got to the top of the stairs, she hung a left and slammed the door to her room. The door frame creaked, and Hazel cursed.

"Why!" She wailed. Why _did_ they have to be so poor? Did her father, Pluto, ever listen to her prayers? Did he even _know_ how little money they had, or how they struggled to make ends meet?

But the weirdest part was that Hazel's mother almost never seemed to care. She rarely complained about how threadbare their furniture was, or their limited wardrobes were. She seemed unaffected by their condition, even happy about it.

"Father," Hazel whispered into her pillow. She had never seen her mother pray to the gods, so she wasn't sure how to do it. Maybe her father just wasn't listening. She continued anyway. "Please, if you are the god of all the riches below the earth, couldn't you help us? Please?"

There was no answer, as usual. Hazel wasn't sure what she expected. Money to fall from the sky? The dress she had been eying at the boutique to appear before her. None of the above happened, so Hazel buried her face in her pillow once again.

A cold breeze seeped into the room. Hazel, thinking her window was letting in the draft, turned.

A man, tall, and shrouded in shadow stood in the center of the room. He wore a fancy coat, and two-tone leather shoes; the type of outfit Hazel could afford in her wildest dreams.

"Hello, my daughter," the man said. His voice was deep and sultry.

"Y-you're my father?" Hazel stammered.

"Yes, Hazel Levesque," he confirmed. She found it strange that he would address her by her full name… Her mother certainly didn't call her Hazel … Levesque, but she charged on anyway.

"Have you come here to answer my prayer?" Hazel asked. "I have grown tired of being poor."

Pluto chuckled, and his laugh echoed a thousand souls. I sent shivers down Hazel's back.

"Are you going to or not?" she snapped. She didn't enjoy anyone who came round just to laugh at her tattered clothes or ramshackle home. In fact, she _loathed_ anyone who did that.

"Just like your mother," Pluto said softly. "Why, she asked me the very same question; she too has become tired of being deprived, underprivileged, destitute, if you will."

Only Hazel wouldn't. "Please, Lord Pluto, Father," she pleaded. "I would give anything for a life of luxury."

"Once again, so much like your mother." He shook his head sadly. "Your mother uttered the same words the when I appeared before her."

"Then why aren't we rich?" Hazel cried. All she wanted was a new dress to impress Sammy, maybe get a compliment or two. Was that too much to ask?

"Hazel, darling. _Anything_ is just too broad a term." He waved his hand, and an image of her mother appeared. "Would you give anything _now_?" Hazel bowed her head, but Pluto wasn't done. He waved his hand and an image of Sammy materialized. Hazel was so embarrassed that she wanted to shoo it away with her hand, but she didn't dare. "How about now?"

"Alright, alright!" she said. "Not anything! Not anything!"

"This is why you are not rolling in wealth as we speak, child," Pluto said. "But I will make my offer one last time: Will you give anything?"

Hazel shook her head, ashamed. There was nothing in the world that would make her give up her mother or Sammy.

"May we meet again, my daughter." Pluto began to melt into the shadows.

"Wait, wait!" Hazel gasped. "How am I supposed to-?" But he was gone, and she still didn't have a new dress.

"Oh, Hazel!" Her mother burst into her room and enveloped her in a hug. "Darlin', I'd do anything for you," she whispered into her shoulder.

"Anything?" Hazel asked.

"A thousand times over," her mother promised.

"Even get me a new dress?" she asked.

"If I could, I would, honey." Hazel pulled away from her mother. She smelled like the candles she burned when she was Queen Marie, the fortune teller, a smell Hazel had never liked.

"Then don't say _anything_." She walked past her mother. She wanted to go outside to see if any of her friends wanted to play, or better yet, Sammy.

"Hazel…" her mother began feebly, but Hazel was already out the door.

"…And that's why I don't have something nice to wear today, Sammy," Hazel lamented. It was the next day, and she and Sammy were sitting on at a table in one of the best gumbo restaurants in all of New Orleans. Grubby, boxy Fords chugged past them. Hazel had never really liked the way cars looked. She much preferred walking. Besides, her mother would _never_ be able to pay for a car.

Sammy smiled over his drink, and Hazel's heart fluttered. She loved it when he smiled at her.

"You look swell, Hazel," he said honestly.

She blushed despite herself. She hated looking so obvious in front of Sammy, but she couldn't it; she really, really liked him.

"But I've worn this a million times," she replied ruefully, glancing down at her jumper and Mary-Janes. "I wanted to look pretty for our date."

Sammy leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Well, you did a great job, then."

Hazel was coming undone. "Serious?" She asked.

"You bet," said Sammy. "You know, I really like you, Hazel."

She batted her eyelashes. "I really like you, too."

For once, Sammy looked as nervous as she did. "Would ya… do you…?"

"I'd love to go steady, Sammy," Hazel finished for him.

He relaxed. "Great!" He said, running a nervous hand through his dirty-blonde hair. "I've gotta go." He stood and kissed Hazel on the cheek again. "By the way, you really do look super fantastic today."

Hazel stared into space, trying to remember her name.

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><p><strong>Yeah, well, I decided to change the way Sammy looks because I'm not really down with the whole Leo-is-Sammy thing... I hope to have a new chapter up by the end of the week :)<strong>

**Thank you for reading and please review! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi :) I tried to make them sound like they were living in the 1940s... I think it went well :D Well, I hope you have a swell time reading and thanks to Amain 4ever, riml, rocketdog791, and tawnyangle for reviewing! You guys are the bee's knees ;) **

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><p>Hazel couldn't wait for her date with Sammy. They were going to go horse back riding, probably her favorite thing in the world, besides drawing. To make things better, it was also her birthday.<p>

Her mother had given her as much as they could afford, which was a new set of paints and brushes. Hazel still loved them. Her father had yet to get her a gift at all. Perhaps he had too many children to remember all their birthdays… Hazel still wished he would remember this one particular daughter's thirteenth birthday.

Today was the day she became a teenager. No more childish things for Hazel Bethany Levesque. She was grown up.

That day at school, Hazel felt like she was on top of the world with her new school bag, yet another gift from Sammy. He had swallowed up her up in a hug and presented her with it, telling her "Happy Birthday, Hazel."

She had blushed good-naturedly and kissed Sammy on the cheek for the first time. "Gee, thanks a million, Sam. You didn't have to."

Sammy had just grinned madly at her and ran off to class.

Yes, Hazel was feeling wonderful right up until she heard Charlotte Birch behind her.

"Hey, Levesque," she smirked. Flanked by her cronies Penelope Phillips and Amelia Day, Hazel hated to admit that she looked a little bit intimidating. "Where'd you get that school bag? It doesn't look quite right on you."

"Why is that?" Hazel asked bravely. She didn't usually stand up to Charlotte, but she wasn't going to let her own birthday be soured by a blonde-haired bully.

"It's not, you know, ratty." She giggled, an annoying, high-pitched tinkle; Penelope and Amelia did the same. Sometimes Hazel wondered if they even had minds of their own; all they ever seemed to do was copy Charlotte.

Hazel's cheeks reddened at the insult. "I got it from Sammy. For my birthday."

"Oh, it's your birthday?" Charlotte inquired. "How old are you turning? Fourteen? Or did you seventh grade twice?" She cackled and started to walk away. She was just about to exit the school yard when she called over her shoulder. "I don't really think it was Sammy who got that bag for you… I think it was your nana."

"Really, Charlotte?" Sammy seemed to materialize at Hazel's side. "Well, let me correct that for you. I _did_ get it for her."

"Yeah! And we're going steady, so you can stop crushin' on my boyfriend!" It felt good to take a jab at Charlotte for once.

Charlotte turned back and snarled at her. Hazel stuck out her tongue.

Sammy frowned. "She likes me?" He asked.

"No, she _liked_ you, up until I put her in her place," Hazel smiled triumphantly. "Wait, you never noticed?"

"Golly, Hazel. You're the only girl I ever noticed," Sammy said.

Hazel blushed and ducked her head. Sammy was so sweet sometimes.

"You ready?" He asked.

"Ready for what?"

Sammy took her hand. "You'll see."

He pulled her through the streets of New Orleans, through the hoards of people glancing wistfully through shop windows, wishing they had a little bit of money leftover from Christmas shopping. That was another thing Hazel did not enjoy about her birthday. It fell very near to Christmas—only a little over a week before, so she never got very many Christmas presents, because her mother had spent her hard-earned cash on birthday presents. Hazel supposed she shouldn't be ungrateful—some of the kids on the streets never got _any_ presents, Christmas or birthday. But still…

They stopped in front of Sammy's house. "Hold on," he said. "I want to get something." He disappeared into the brown stone that he shared with another family. Hazel had never been inside, but she imagined it would be nice. Sammy never seemed to be short of money.

_Stop__brooding,__Hazel,_ she told herself, but it was hard, so very hard at this time of year.

She was leaning against the brick façade of the house when Sammy emerged. He seemed to have switched his schoolbag for a picnic basket. Hazel grinned.

"A picnic?" She asked. "In December?"

"You bet, Levesque." He hefted the basket, and Hazel tried to lift the lid. "No you don't," Sammy laughed. "I have a surprise for later. By the way, my mother wants to know if you and your family would join us for Christmas dinner." He paused, waiting for an answer.

Hazel hadn't a clue what she should say. She hadn't really told him much about her life; he had never been to her house, or even met her mother. Hazel wasn't even sure she had even mentioned Sammy to her.

"I don't know," she told him. "Not to be rude or anything, but I'm not sure my mother would…" she trailed off.

Sammy nodded. "I understand. I just really wanted you to meet my parents." He seemed a little more downcast than before, though.

She nudged him. "I'll join y'all for dinner some other time," she assured. "I promise."

"I'd like that." Sammy's eyes crinkled when he smiled. Hazel couldn't help but smile too. "Enough talking. We've got a long walk."

It certainly was a long walk. It felt as if they were trying to walk straight out of Louisiana.

When the large wooden structures and open field came into view, Hazel's heart lifted. Could if really be?

"Here we are!" Sammy announced. "Quickman's Stables."

Hazel could have kissed him. "Oh, Sam, you're the bee's knees!" she tackled him in a hug.

"Well, let's saddle up," Sammy suggested.

They rode all day long, Hazel on a tawny mare, Sammy on a brown and white Pinto. It was the best birthday present she had ever gotten.

Finally, when the sun was getting pretty low in the sky, she called out to Sammy.

"My mother's gonna worry if I'm not home soon!" She brought her horse into step with his.

"We haven't even gotten to the best part, though!" Sammy said, sliding off his horse and handing the reins to the stableman. "Thanks," he told him, and Hazel did the same while Sammy went to the benches to pick up the picnic basket. He clasped Hazel's hand in his.

"We'll be back by dark," he told her. "I promise."

They walked to the nearby park, and Sammy pulled a blanket from the basket and spread it on the ground. Hazel sprawled out on her stomach, feeling the wintery breeze ruffle her curly brown hair. Winter in the South was actually her favorite time of year, not too cold, not too warm. It was as close to perfect as you could get.

"I've got something for ya, Hazel," Sammy said, pulling open the basket. He stuck his hand in and drew out a cupcake with snow white icing. "For you." He handed it to her.

Hazel gazed at it with doe eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a cupcake. "What about you?"

Sammy shrugged. "It's your birthday. And I could only sneak one," he admitted. "They were for a party my mother is throwing."

"Thanks," Hazel said, biting into the cupcake. It was delicious. Sammy pulled out some sandwiches and a thermos of lemonade. He poured Hazel a glass and laughed.

"What?" she fought the urge to blush. "What is it?"

"You have some icing on your nose… Let me get it." He leaned forward slowly and kissed Hazel, right on the lips. She felt as if she were on cloud nine.

When he pulled away, predictably grinning, she asked, "Is there really something on my nose?"

Sammy picked up a napkin and dabbed her nose. "Yeah."

They were quiet for a while, and Hazel laid her head on his shoulder. They watched the sun set.

"Golly," Hazel said, stretching her arms. "Where's the time gone? My mother's really gonna worry."

Sammy swiftly packed up their picnic, and Hazel folded up the blanket.

"I'll walk you home, if you'd like," Sammy told her. She nodded.

"I'd love that."

They walked back into town at a quick pace, but not too fast. Hazel savored every moment that she held Sammy's hand. They blended in perfectly with the couples out for a stroll.

Hazel had them stop a few streets away from her apartment. She wasn't quite ready for Sammy to see where she lived. "Thanks a bunch for that, Sammy. That was fantastic."

"You're welcome," he replied, pecking her on the cheek. "I'll see you at school?"

Hazel nodded and started off down the street, toward her house. Maybe she should have taken Sammy to meet her mother. That would certainly have eased the anxiety she was no doubt facing. It was too late now, though.

Hazel padded up the wooded steps to her house and opened the door. She peered inside. Her mother was sweeping the floor, the way she did when she was nervous about something.

"Mother?" Hazel called.

"Oh!" her mother started. "Hazel, you surprised me. Did you have a nice birthday?"

"Swell," Hazel murmured.

"Great," her mother said absently, sweeping the dust out the door. There was something on her mind, Hazel just couldn't tell what. "Hazel, I have something to tell you."

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><p><strong>HaHa. A cliff hanger. Just thought I'd keep y'all on your toes. Thanks a million for reading, and please REVIEW! I will acknowledge any reviewers in the next chapter, so you'll be famous! ;) <strong>

**Make sure you REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi :) I worked all night on this chapter, hope you all like it!**

**Thanks to Captain Cynthia, Giselle Pink, Brittany, and Ravaging Star for reviewing! 'Priciate it!**

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><p>Hazel froze. Her mother <em>never<em> approached her like that. She always told her outright, so nothing shook her. But this, it never happened.

"I—," her mother began, but Hazel didn't want to hear it, not now. Anything brought up like this must be really terrible, and Hazel had something to confess to her mother as well. If she didn't do it now, she may never.

"Mother," she cut it. "I wanted to tell you that Sammy's mother invited us over for Christmas dinner. And Sammy, he… he's…" she faltered, and her mother looked at her expectantly. "He's my boyfriend."

Hazel's mother looked unfazed. "That's wonderful, Hazel. Maybe you're a little young, but I…" She didn't finish. "But I really—"

"And he was really hoping you'd accept," Hazel went on, ignoring the comment about her being young. She really, really liked Sammy, and it didn't matter how old she was. "I didn't tell him about our, umm—" Hazel never knew what to call their distinct lack of wealth—"situation, so it's not like she's offering us charity of anything. It's just an honest to goodness Christmas din—"

"Hazel!" her mother stopped her. "I've decided to give up fortune telling."

The news hit Hazel like a blow. Her mother had never been anything else. Everyone on this side of town knew her as "Queen Marie, fortune teller." It was like her mother was stripping herself of her own identity.

"H-how are we going to afford food?" This of course was Hazel's first thought. How was she supposed to live without food?

A weak smile spread across her mother's face. "I got a job at the hospital. I didn't want to tell you I was looking for one in case I didn't get it."

Hazel frowned. Her mother, a nurse? Not that she objected it was just… Her mother wasn't really the nurturing type. Hazel had been putting on her own bandages since she was three.

Her mother studied her face. "You're unhappy? Really Hazel, this could be the best thing that's happened to us in such a long time. We may even be able to move into another house."

Hazel shook her head. "It's not that. I just… thought you had to have special training to be a nurse."

Her mother smiled outright this time. "Oh, no, honey. I'm not going to be a nurse. I'm a receptionist."

"Oh." That was a relief. Hazel did not want her mother to wind up hurting some one for lack of experience. Or worse, killing them.

"That's super, mother," she said. "So, how about that dinner with Sammy and his family? His mother is real nice, and his sister is actually well-behaved, for a four-year-old."

Her mother looked absent. There was something else on her mind, something she still wasn't telling Hazel. She knew that look, though, and maybe she didn't want to ask.

"Oh, I don't know," her mother murmured. "I think we may… do something else that night."

_Something __else?_ Since when did they have prior engagements?

"Go to bed, sweet pea," her mother said. "I've got to… Get somethin' for work tomorrow." She grabber her coat. "I'll be back soon." She swung out the door, seeming to be in an unusually good mood. On top of that, she was speaking in her accent, something she normally tried to hide. She generally only used it when she was lying. And tomorrow was Saturday; she didn't have to work.

Hazel wrinkled her nose and went to bolt the door. Her mother didn't lie very often, but it was obvious when she was. And she was. She couldn't really be getting something for work. What did she take Hazel for? An idiot?

She mounted the stairs to her room and changed into her linen night gown.

Sliding on her worn out slippers, hand-me-downs from her mother, she sat down on the window seat and drew back the curtains. New Orleans was a sight at night. The people, the lights, even a few cars. The moon was full and the stars were as bright was ever. From her window, she could see the little restaurant across the street, an Italian cuisine. It was strange, out of place, especially since they lived not far from the French Quarter.

Outside the restaurant, there were a few tables, and couples laughed and talked, and a few even kissed. Then Hazel saw something that made her stomach drop.

Her mother, in her worse-for-wear coat was leaning on the table, seemingly listening intently to something someone was saying. Some _man_.

He met her halfway, and they were both still for a moment. Her mother glanced toward the house, and Hazel instinctively ducked, though she was fairly sure her mother couldn't see her. When she peered over the window sill again, her mother was kissing the man passionately. Hazel cringed and looked way, feeling like she had just spied on something deeply personal. She _had_ just spied on something deeply personal, but that didn't give her mother an excuse for lying to her so she could make out with a man Hazel didn't even know.

She slunk away from her window, and climbed into bed, determined to avoid her mother for the next few days.

It was dark. She was in front of a dark castle. The courtyard of the castle was strewn with weapons, crushing the bare trees and pale flowers. Hazel looked down at her hands. They were transparent, as if she were a ghost of herself.

She stepped forward, and noticed a slew of demigods—that's what she was—gathered around the castle doors. They were dressed in armor, and they were all shouting at each other. Most of them were probably in the twenties, which made it all so much more strange, and she thought she saw someone she recognized at the head of the group, some one famous, but she couldn't quite but her finger on it.

She approached the group, but they didn't really seem to notice her. On a whim, she stepped right through them.

She emerged in the throne room, like she had just gone right through the rest of the castle. She was supposed to be here.

Pluto sat on a throne of bones, beside his wife Proserpina—Hazel had read that in a book of mythology; she had never really expected to meet her. Her hair was lustrous and black, and she wore a serious look.

Hazel stepped forward. If something had summoned her here, it was most likely her father.

"Hazel," he boomed, his voice raspy. "What are you doing here?"

Hazel shook her head, confused. "I don't know."

"Stupid girl," Proserpina said coldly. "State your business. Your father is busy; he has a war to preside over. Many of your wretched siblings are already waiting outside. They come day and night…" she drowned on. Hazel wasn't really interested, but she didn't dare interrupt. Pluto didn't, either. "…and how you go in here ahead of all the rest of them, I haven't a clue."

"Gee, I'm real sorry. I just went to sleep and-," she stopped, realizing how stupid she sounded.

Pluto looked annoyed. "My children are fighting a war, Hazel." She didn't want to think about how busy he must have been to have so many children. Maybe that's why Proserpina was so unhappy. "Stay out of this, child. You're too young. Be prepared for anything, young Hazel. Now you must go." Before Pluto had a chance, his wife swiped a hand through Hazel, and she dissipated.

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><p><strong>Now, children, this part may not make very much sense right now, but patience, grasshopper, knoweldge will come... 'Specially if you review and add this story to your email alerts... Just a tip ;) But seriously, the more reviews I get, the faster I'll but up a new chapter. <strong>

**Hope y'all all have super swell days!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, ya'll… I hadn't really realized how long it's been since I updated this story, so I decided to whip something up for ya ;) Have a super keen Christmas! (Or Hanukkah!)**

**So... I am reconsidering Hazel's mother's reaction to her having a boyfriend at such a young age… I realize that it was most definitely a bigger deal back then. I mean, I had a boyfriend at 13, but that's now. Whatever. **

Hazel jolted up right in her bed. Her feet felt grimy from walking through Underworld, and she decided to get up and wash.

She peeked through the curtains, afraid she would see her mother and that strange man again, but the sky was already tinged a dull pink with morning light. The restaurant owner was sweeping off the patio area where her mother had sat the night before.

Hazel stumbled down the stairs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to boil some water for a warm bath. Her mother couldn't afford to have Hazel using up all the hot running water for a bath. Much better to use it for washing dishes, which Hazel didn't really appreciate… she would much rather be clean herself than have clean dishes.

She thought she heard something in the kitchen, which was strange for a Saturday morning. Her mother usually liked to sleep in. Her mother's soft laugh drifted around the corner to where Hazel stood on the stairs. What was she laughing at? Then another voice reached Hazel's ear, one unmistakably male. But then, what was a man doing in the house?

Hazel was about to barrel around the corner, thinking it was her father, but he was busy with the war, which again begged the question, who was here, in her kitchen, talking, laughing with her mother?

Carefully, she stuck her head into the room. It smelled like coffee, something that her mother saved for special occasions, like Christmas. A man in a navy blue coat was leaning over a cup of coffee? Had he stayed the night? It was so improper! What was her mother thinking?

"Mother!" Hazel shouted, bounding into the kitchen.

Her mother jumped, and the man looked uncomfortable.

"John," Hazel's mother said slowly, "this is my daughter, the one I told you about, err… last night, I guess. Hazel, John."

"What's he doing here?" Hazel asked accusatorily. Her mother blinked hard in an exasperated sort of way. "I know about last night, too, Mother."

Her mother let out a tight, nervous laugh. "Uh, John, please excuse us." She pushed Hazel into the tiny sitting room, where he mother used to do business. Hazel crossed her arms and went along with it.

"Alright, darling," John called, and Hazel's mother hung her head. _Darling_! Hazel was outraged. How long had this been going on without her knowledge?

Hazel sat down in her mother's chair. She knew she hated that, but Hazel didn't care. Her mother dropped down opposite her, in the chair known as the "customer chair."

Marie didn't meet her eyes. Hazel frowned.

"Answer my question!" Hazel snapped, at the same time her mother said, "I cannot believe how rude you were!"

"Well," Hazel cried, "I apologize if I don't take well to strange men in my house!" Her mother's eyes blazed. "And I saw you two last night across the street," Hazel went on. "You didn't even tell me! And then you brought him to stay the night-!"

"He certainly _did not_ stay the night!" her mother cut in. "You need to get a grip if you think I am going to create that sort of reputation for us!" That caught Hazel's tongue. Her mother's voice softened. "I'm sorry, doll. I meant to get around to telling you, but it never really seemed like the right time."

Hazel wasn't ready to calm down, not just yet. "You never keep secrets from me, Mother. Why now? Can't you trust me anymore?"

Her mother pursed her lips. John stuck his head into the room, and Hazel got a good look at her for the first time. He had brown hair, dancing blue eyes—a strangely attractive combination-, which were creased with smile lines, making him seem at least a little friendly. Overall he was very attractive, about Hazel's mother's age, maybe a year older. In fact, he looked a little familiar. But that wasn't what mattered right now. She didn't know if he was worthy of her mother. She hadn't even met him until today.

He cleared his throat; Hazel shot him a scathing glare.

"I think I'd better leave," he said, tipping his hat. Gentlemanly, too. "Hope you'll join me for Christmas. Nice to meet you, Hazel." And with that he exited out the front door.

Hazel's eyes danced with fury. "You said we could go to Sammy's for Christmas dinner!" she exploded.

"I never said that," her mother reminded her. "Besides, I wasn't in my right mind when you told me about this Sammy boy. You're much too young to have a boyfriend, Hazel. Perhaps wait until you're my age."

Hazel'd had enough. "No, I _won't_ wait until I'm your age. In fact, I won't wait at all, and I _won't_ be joining you and John for dinner!" Hazel grabbed her coat off the hook and threw it on over her night clothes, then pulled on her boots and a hat over her fly-away curls. She flung the door open and stormed out of the house, one destination in mind.

She started down the street. John was waiting around the corner, and Hazel resisted the urge to growl at him. When he spotted her, he hurried away.

There weren't very many people on the street on a Saturday at this early hour, but I knew Sammy would be awake.

I came around the side of his house, and he was sitting on his window seat. I waved at him.

"Sammy!" I hissed. "Down here!" she tried to get his attention, but he was facing the other way. Hazel looked around. There was a little bit of snow on the ground from the previous night—it didn't really snow that much in Louisiana. She picked up a handful in her bare hand and balled it up and threw it at the window. It worked like a charm.

Sammy whirled around and smiled when he saw Hazel. He was pure adorable when he smiled at her. He disappeared to get his coat, and Hazel came around to the front of the house and sat on the front steps.

A few minutes later, Sammy bounded down the steps, taking Hazel's hand.

"Come on!" he cried, pulling her down the street. "Let's get out of here."

Hazel was almost taken aback by Sammy's insistence. But she liked it, she liked how flushed his cheeks were from the cold, the feel of her hand in his.

"Golly, Sammy," Hazel said, a little breathless. She had to hold onto her hat to keep it from flying off her head. "What's the big rush?"

"Nothing, I guess." He slowed down. "Things are wound so tight at my house. Maybe we should go to your place for a while."

Hazel glanced down at their intertwined hands. "Well, my mother doesn't exactly approve of… us," Hazel mumbled. "But I don't care," she added quickly. "We'll just be…" she struggled for the right word. "A secret."

Sammy looked uneasy. "Gee, I'm real sorry, Hazel," he said. "But I just remembered that I've got an errand for Mother."

Hazel's eyes stung. She guessed Sammy just didn't want her around.

"It's alright, Sam," she said, dropping his hand. "I'll see you… sometime."

"What about…" Sammy trailed off at Hazel's expression. Christmas was evidently not on anymore.

With another sympathetic look, he kissed Hazel on the cheek and sprinted across the street.

**Those darned mother's boyfriends! Always causing trouble! And about the snow in Louisiana… I don't really know if it snows there, like, ever—I mean, I live in GA, and it might snow once every five years or something. But evidently, I have used the snow to my advantage, so if you're from Louisiana, you are not allowed to rat on me!**

**So… I wrote this whole chapter in an hour long sitting… Evidently, I have nothing else to do. Well, Merry Christmas/Hanukkah! Or Happy Hanukkah, because Merry Hanukkah sounds really weird.. **

**Please, please, please, review! I am begging you! ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I never realize how long I go without updating this story :/ Oh well, I'm updating now!**

**~Shout outs: Thanks to pjoperson, Lucky Ducky, and the two anonymous reviews! Oh my gosh, one of them was from Louisiana! That totally rocks! **

**Oh, and I almost forgot: It's my birthday! So show me lots of love with those reviews! **

**On with the story!**

**Note: Reviews= Best birthday presents EVER. :D**

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><p>Hazel's day had gone from great to fantastic, what with Sammy running off on her. Maybe if she was lucky, John would propose to her mother on Christmas. Christmas. It was in only a few days, but Hazel still hadn't gotten anything for her mother—or Sammy. The only problem was that she had no money. Well, that wasn't the only problem. The other problem was that she had no idea where to get money, or what to get her mother. This was a dilemma.<p>

The cold wind bit into Hazel's cheeks, like a chilly hand caressing her face. What was she going to do? However impoverished her family had been, Hazel had never gone a single Christmas without scraping a few dollars to buy her mother a gift, no matter how small. One Christmas it had been a single daisy from the flower lady down the street. But her mother had loved it, nevertheless. Perhaps her allusive father would give her a gift this year. _I can wish, can't I? _Her father had never given her a gift for Christmas.

And then it hit her. An shiny airborne object. "Oww!" she cried, holding her hand to her forehead, where the shiny item had struck her. Her came away bloody. Her stomach lurched. She couldn't stand the sight of blood, especially her own.

She bent down to whip her hand in the snow, leaving a red streak in the pure white. The glare caught her eye almost immediately. She scooped up the shimmering stone, intending to examine it further. Right now she wanted to find whoever had thrown it. It turned out she didn't have to look far.

"Hey!" someone shouted, and Hazel whirled around. Another stone went hurling through the air. "You dropped you diamonds!" It was a boy, a little taller than her, perhaps a year or so older than her. But what was this he was saying about diamonds?

Hazel glanced down at the rock in her hand. It was rough, but it caught the light in rainbow waves.

"It's a shame that they're fake!" The boy continued to chuck the mysterious rocks at her. Another stone sailed over her head, and rage bubble within Hazel. Warm blood trickled into her eyes. She wiped it away hastily.

"You hit me. You do know that right?" she tried to sound calm, but her voice rose with anger. The concrete under the boy's feet groaned, the smug look on his face quickly turning from smugness to shock. Cracks blossomed from where he stood. Hazel was dumbstruck. Was _she_ doing that? She knew she was a demigod—her mother hadn't kept _that_ from her—but powers? This was keen!

"Y-you'd better run," she told the boy, her voice coming out a little shaky. "I can do a whole lot more than that!" In truth, she couldn't but a little bluffing could get you anywhere. The boy ran off screaming.

The moment he was out of sight, Hazel started scouring ground for more precious gems. She found a few where she was sitting, and then a trail began to form. There were a few missing from where the boy had picked them up, but otherwise the trail led nearly all the back to her house, where they suddenly disappeared. Strange. She wondered why no one else had picked them up, or how they hadn't punctured the tires of someone's Ford. Hazel thought briefly of telling her mother, but she decided against it. She imagined her mother wouldn't let her keep the jewels. After all, they could have just fallen out of a grossly wealthy person's pocket. She didn't want to give them back. The way Hazel saw it, if she bought a few things, it would just be distributing the riches. Besides, one stone would pay for Christmas presents for her mother and Sammy and then some. She would then figure out what to do with the rest of them later.

Hazel sauntered down the street, her heart light. She had a pocketful of diamonds and not a care in the world… or rather, the diamonds made all of her cares not worth caring about. The jeweler would be quite pleased when she went to see him. As she glanced into a store window, thinking of all the pretty things she would be able to buy her mother, she caught sight of her reflection.

"Good golly," she cursed. Her head was still bleeding. She ducked into the medicine shop for some bandages. But she couldn't just give the clerk uncut diamonds. She dug in her coat pocket. Thank the gods for the couple of dimes she kept there for emergencies. She pulled out forty cents, enough for at least one bandage.

"Morning, Hazel," the clerk, a kind young woman named Sarah chirped. She gasped when she saw the congealed blood on Hazel's forehead. "Oh, darling, let me get you a bandage!" she scrambled over to the shelf on which sat jars with assorted size of sticky gauze. Hazel clinked the coins back in forth in her hands.

"There ya are, hon," Sarah said after she'd applied the gauze to Hazel's head.

"How much?" Hazel asked expectantly. Sarah glanced around. It was fairly early in the morning, so no one else was in the shop.

"Don't be silly," she whispered, just in case. "I'm not going to make you pay for-," she stopped abruptly when Hazel dropped all four dimes on the counter.

"It's alright," she assured her. "I've got it." She winked conspiratorially. She was feeling more confident than usual, despite the bandage on her head, which probably looked a little ridiculous. Now off to the jeweler's.

Hazel swept out of the shop, went another block and stopped outside of Hannah Jewelers. Maybe she shouldn't have come here. Well, if she had precious stones, he couldn't deny her a visit, could he? She pulled three of the stones from her pocket and braced herself.

The jewelry man, who she believed was Mr. Hannah himself, assumed a frown as soon as she entered. People like Hazel never came into his store.

"What are you doing in here?" he snarled. Hazel swallowed hard. "Out with it, or out of here!" His blue eyes were steely, harsh, like they were cutting into Hazel's very soul. Her first reaction was to cower, but she realized she had no reason to.

"I-I have something I'd like you to look at," she stammered, stepping up to the counter.

"What could you possibly have to show me?" he scoffed. Hazel narrowed her eyes. He jumped when she slammed the diamonds on the glass counter top.

"These."

Carefully lifting one of the diamonds, the jeweler brought it to his eyes. They widened, and then he took out what looked to Hazel like a miniature telescope and examined it more closely.

"How did you come to be possession of these, young lady?" he asked finally.

Hazel panicked. But really, what had she expected? For him to just lay the money down on the counter?

"I just…" she faltered. "A friend," she managed.

"Well, perhaps if you told me the truth I would be able to begin to negotiate with you but until then…" he came out from behind the glass counter and began to push Hazel from the store.

"But my diamonds-," she protested, but the jeweler laughed coldly.

"Nice try, young lady." With that he shoved her the rest of the way out of the shop and onto the sidewalk. Hazel stamped her foot, and cracks spiderwebbed out from were it had struck the concrete. The jeweler flipped the store sign to the 'Closed' side with a clatter. Great. At least she hadn't given him all of her diamonds.

Hazel reeled as a man swept past her. "Watch your—," she cut off when she saw that it was John, the man that her mother had been secretly on a date with. He tipped his hat to her and went inside the jewelry store. Hazel hoped he wasn't buying her mother a Christmas gift.

Hazel walked around town for a few more hours, not wanting to return home. She didn't really want to face her mother just yet. Still, she should at least stow the diamonds somewhere in her room.

When Hazel got home, the step were dusted with snow, and there were footprints. They were indistinct, as if however had made them were rushing to get up to the house—or away from it. Maybe her mother had stepped out, though any reason that she would be rushing escaped Hazel. Mounted the steps and pushed the door open.

Hazel immediately heard the sobbing in the sitting room. _Mother_, she thought; she rushed around the corner. Though her mother was in the room, she wasn't the one who was crying. A man in a navy coat was bent over, his body wracked with sobs. Her mother kneeled beside him, making comforting, cooing noises. It looked like—

"John?" Hazel gasped. She had just seen him a few hours ago, at the jewelry shop. He hadn't looked sad.

Hazel's mother looked up, whispered something to John, and stood, leading Hazel by the elbow into the kitchen.

"Hazel, I'm very sorry I didn't tell you about John," her mother apologized, "but his father just died a very suddenly a few hours ago. He has no one else to go to." With no further information, her mother turned to reenter the sitting room.

"Wait," Hazel insisted, feeling for some reason like this was an important question. "Who was his father?"

Her mother hesitated a moment then sighed. "Edward Hannah."

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><p><strong>You make the connection. Well, make sure you review and show some birthday love! <strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Merp. Hey guys! This is sort of just a tide-me-over chapter (it was all typed out on my phone, so yay me!) because my computer is freaking broken _again. _I promise I'll update as soon as I can after this, but I am going to have to type most of the documents for all of my stories on my phone, which is way, way slower than on the computer. **

**Anyway, you were probably like,  
>"screw this author's note" a while ago, so let's get on the shout outs! I'd like to remind everyone that if you reviews, I will personally acknoledge you in the SHOUT OUTS so you will be totally famous. So thanks to *drum roll*:<br>****~ BananaBurger13: Your review didn't really make that much sense to me, but it said to update soon, so I listed to you! Congrats on you persuasive skills! Oh, and I just noticed you reviewed twice, so DOUBLE THANKS!  
>~Sky urged: I will continue, thanks for the encouragement!<br>~Unknown Lunatic: Aww, thank you! I will!  
>~pjoperson: I really love how you review like, every chapter. It really makes me happy, so keep doing it and thank you for my happy birthday :)<br>**

**Alright, on with the story!**

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><p>Hazel's first instinct was to snap at her mother… And she did just that.<p>

"So not only did you not tell me you were seeing John," she hissed so that the man in question, whom only in the next room over, wouldn't hear, "you also failed to mention that his father owns-" _owned_, actually, but Hazel wasn't about to correct herself on that technicality—"a _jewelry store_?" She took a defensive position then, crossing her arms and scowling hard at her mother. In stark contrast, her mother looked utterly vulnerable, biting her lip and avoiding Hazel's gaze.

"I didn't know," she said finally. "John was always so… cagey, so guarded. He never really told me all that much about himself… and I replied in kind."

Hazel blinked. The idea of her mother doing something as preposterous as seeing a man that she hardly even knew was just… unthinkable. Hazel had always looked up to her as a rational and responsible person, but now… Now Hazel didn't know what to think. "Why, then, mother? He could have been anyone. He could have been…" She trailed off, letting her mother fill in the blank.

"What's any of this to you, Hazel?" her mother asked so bitterly that it took Hazel aback. "I didn't care because I like John. It's as simple as that." Her mother's cheeks flamed with an emotion that Hazel never really thought possible of her. "I enjoyed spending time with him, and he wasn't pressuring me into doing anything… improper. There's no harm in that." She turned away, but Hazel wasn't finished.

"How long" she asked, point blank. Her mother stared at her.

"What?" she murmured.

"How long were you seeing John before I found out?" Judging by the look on her face, it seemed Mother was going to dodge this question as long as she possibly could. Well, that wasn't going to be very long, not on Hazel's watch.

"Well, now that you've mentioned John, I'll need to get back to him."

"How long?" Hazel demanded. She wasn't about to let this go so easily. "Tell me now!"

"No, Hazel," her mother corrected her. She never took this tone of voice with her daughter. "I am not going to tell you, especially if you are going to order me around." With that, she stormed back to her beloved John, son of the jewelry man. If her mother loved him more than her own flesh and blood, so be it. Still, Hazel was beginning to wonder if it was such a coincidence that she'd been to see the man just hours before John's father's untimely demise. Well, at any rate, John would more than likely be receiving a portion of, if not all of his father's possessions, not to mention his successful business, Hannah Jewelers.

And then there was the matter of him being so obviously smitten with her mother. What wealthy man in his right mind would even look at a woman with such tatter clothes? Hazel wondered where they had even met. At any rate, this whole situation was nothing short of a disaster, also considering that she hadn't even been able to receive any money for her diamonds. Who was she supposed sell them to now? Certainly not John. She would have to stow them away for later and perhaps find another way to raise funds for Christmas gifts. She hadn't much time, though.

Bored with standing in the kitchen alone, Hazel crept around the corner to the sitting room. John was sitting up now, though he looked like a wreck.

She withdrew her head back around the corner when she saw John glancing her way. She felt a bit sorry for him- she couldn't imagine losing her mother. But then again, you couldn't really feel too sorry for somebody who'd likely just inherited millions of dollars.

Marie brushed past Hazel into the kitchen, putting a kettle over the stove. She scurried in and out every few minutes, as if she were waiting on John. If wanted service, couldn't he have gone to the restaurant across the street?

Hazel stopped her mother on what must have been the tenth go-round.

"You like waiting on him?" she asked her mother while she pulled one of their only mugs from the cupboard. It was the nicest one they owned, though it still had the sliver if a crack running down the handle. It was actually Hazel's, since her mother was prone to becoming distracted and breaking her own.

"Hazel," her mother chided, the ghost of a smile on her lips, as if she enjoyed the thought of what she was about to say, "I really don't mind. I think I..." she trailed off, unsure, and Hazel's heart dropped into her stomach. She knew what her mother wasn't saying. "I think I love John, Hazel," she finished, "and, darling, when you love somebody, you just don't mind."

Hazel wrinkled her nose. She couldn't really imagine willingly waiting on anyone. Except maybe her mother and _maybe_ Sammy… She wasn't really sure what to think about him since his unexplained and hasty exit from the park. Maybe he wasn't the one for her.

At any rate, though, if her mother really believed she was in love with John, they would be seeing a lot more of him. She just hoped her mother didn't move too fast with him.

Hazel surveyed the small, dingy kitchen. In the center of the room was the wood burning stove, which had a pipe running up through the ceiling to let the smoke out of the house. The kettle sang on top of it, and Hazel walked over to pour the boiling liquid into a cup her mother had already prepared for John, which was on the counter.

After picking up a rag to prevent herself from getting burned, she grabbed the kettle and went to the counter, wondering why her mother hadn't come to get it herself. _She must be too preoccupied with her beloved John_, she thought with disdain. Then she noticed the two other cups besides the one she was currently pouring water into. The small mug had overflowed while Hazel was fretting over John, and hot water splashed to the wooden floor. She didn't move to clean it up right away, though. Two other cups meant that, unless there was someone else here she didn't know about, her mother expected Hazel to join her and John.

She hastily set down the tea cup and mopped up the spilt water, then grabbed her coat of the rack in the tiny foyer. She pulled it on, along with boots and gloves then yanked the door open.

"I'm going out, Mother!" she called back into the house. She doubted her mother would notice her absence without notification. "Be back soon!"

Much to Hazel's surprise, her mother came into the foyer. "But Hazel I wanted us to—," her mother began.

"I need some air, Mother, please," Hazel begged. She had a few other plans, but she quite honestly did not want to be in the same house a grown, sobbing man. "I'll be back in two shakes of a rabbit's tail," she promised.

Her mother sighed. "Alright, I suppose."

It was only just before she closed the door that Hazel saw her favorite mug dangling by the handle in her mother's hand.

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><p><strong>Well, perhaps Hazel's plans will be revealed in the next chapter. <strong>**Like I said, short sweet, and to the point... Tide-me-over. But I'll be updating in two shakes of a rabbit's tail ;) Yeah, that was cheesy... Well, make sure you review so you can get famous, and tell me how mean and judgemental Hazel is being to John... His dad just died. Be nice, darn it! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi guys. Sorry it's taken so long for the update! This chapter is so-so-at least I think- and it's been sitting on my computer like, 90% finished for a few weeks. Anyway, I've been super-duper busy lately, and I apologive for that. I hadn't sat down at my own personal computer for so long it was collecting dust :/ Not good. I know I always say this, but I'll try harder to update more often! **

**~Hall of Fame~  
>-pjoperson-You rock. 'Nuff said<br>-unknown lunatic-I think she'll warm up to him in time. We'll see.  
>-booklover29-Will do. And thanks!<br>-Kasserlena-Thank you!  
>-me-Well, you know, on this story <strong>:)  
>-<strong>RIP Dale- Update as soon as possible? Check. <strong>

**Have fun reading!**

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><p>Hazel hadn't really thought over her plan all that much before she had ducked out of the house. Her main focus was to escape from John, the grieving son of the jewelry man. As if it wasn't awful enough that her mother was smitten with him.<p>

She rounded the corner, hand in her coat pocket, turning the cold diamond round. Some one—besides the jewelry man, evidently—would pay quite a pretty penny for them. Hazel just had to locate the correct person.

She breathed in the cold air, huffing out a puff of white breath, which was quickly whisked away in the frigid wind. She kicked at the snow on the sidewalk as she walked, accidently scuffing the toe on her boot. Mother would flip when she saw that.

The Hannah Jewelers came into view a minute later, as if she had thought of something other that John for a bit too long. It was barred up tight. Hazel wondered how long it would be like that. Forever, hopefully. She wondered if she had been Mr. Hannah's last customer. Perhaps even the last person he had even seen in his life. The thought sent to shiver up her back, and the diamonds seemed to grow heavier in her pocket. She felt the sudden urge to hold onto them for a while, too keep them hidden away. But how else was she to make money for Christmas presents? She had to sell them anyway.

_Do not_, a voice whispered faintly in the back of her mind. _For the good of others_. It was so soft, so weak that it could have been nonexistent. She chose to ignore it, though an extremely uneasy feeling was spreading in the pit of her stomach. _You need money_, her own voice whispered. Perhaps she could even get a present for John… no jewelry, though. And besides, she had had so many awful Christmases—though she would never admit that to her mother—that she had to keep going.

The pawn shop was thankfully open—the hours tended to be inconsistent, which Hazel unfortunately knew from the times that her and her mother were forced to pawn some of the more valuable items in their home. They hadn't been able to get any of them back. But today, it wasn't Hazel's intention to get the jewels back. The pawn shop owner could do whatever he pleased with them.

Louis, the shifty-eyed owner of the place immediately leaned over the counter when Hazel entered. Hazel suspected that he might have been sweet on her mother, but he was much too dishonest and secretive for her liking.

"My mother isn't here," Hazel said quickly. His expression shifted slightly, but he remained draped over the counter.

"What brings you here, young Hazel Levesque?" he inquired. "Looking to beg back some of your mother's items? Well, even if I hadn't sold them already—"

"I'm not interesting in begging anything off you." Hazel was eager to get out of the shop as quickly as she could. Louis made her uncomfortable. "I want to sell you something." She pulled the diamonds from her pocket and offered them to him.

"Unset gem stones?" He raised an eyebrow. "How did you come to own these?"

Panicking, Hazel quickly concocted a lie. "I pulled them from a set of my mother's earrings. That way she won't notice their absence so quickly." In truth, her mother had nothing so nice left in her jewelry collection, and the stones were much too large for earrings.

"You're willing to pawn me these?" Louis asked, evidently not that concerned with how she had obtained them. She nodded. "I'll give you thirty-five dollars for the three of them."

"Thirty-five?" Hazel protested. Her mother had always been able to walk up his prices, but Hazel felt no where near confident enough. The diamonds had to be worth at least fifty dollar _each_. Louis probably took her as a fool, and truthfully, she felt like a fool for what she about to do. "Um, that's more than I expected. Very gracious of you, Louis. Thank you, I'll take the thirty-five."

Louis smirked, obviously pleased with his deal. He counted the bills and placed them in Hazel's hand. "Thank you for your business. You have sixty days to redeem your items for the same price. After that, I am under obligation to—" Hazel left the shop before he could finish. She tucked the money in her boot, where it was least likely to be swiped, and headed towards the department store.

This branch of Rich's wasn't a large affair—just the normal house ware, toy, and clothing departments—but it left Hazel's imagination open to how grand the other stores much be. She had heard the one in Atlanta had several floors. Hazel, however, would be lucky to ever leave Louisiana, let alone ever make it Georgia. But she could still dream of vast buildings, filled to the brim with merchandise, and of course, a city full of people who had money to buy it all. Like she did now. She couldn't remember the last time she had held more than a few dollars at a time, if ever.

She pulled the door open, breathing in the warm air. The vast building was the _perfect_ place to find a present or two for her mother, and maybe even a treat for herself. The candy counter caught her eye immediately. Her mouth watered. She hadn't had candy in such a long time, she just couldn't resist.

She strode up to the counter, the cash in her pocket already feeling as if it was burning a hole straight through her overcoat.

"How much candy can I get for a dollar?" she asked, wriggling her hand through her pocket. The smallest bill she had was a five.

The young cashier cocked an eye brow. "Two pounds. But that's rather a lot of sweets for someone so little."

"Keen. I'll take two pounds of taffy, mints, and chocolate," Hazel told him. She could almost taste the chocolate melting in her mouth, and she knew her mother loved mints. "Mix them up in one bag."

Shaking his head, the cashier measured out the candy with the big scoops. Hazel grinned. This was going to be the best Christmas ever.

A few hours later, she came out of the store with a new apron for her mother, a new cloth for the table, a bouquet of flowers, a new dress for herself, and about half a pound of candy. She had also chosen a nice tie for John, to make him feel a little more welcome in their humble little home. She walked cautiously down the street, wary of anyone who might want to swipe her bags.

Jazz music floated from around the street corner, and her shoulders swayed to the gentle, easy melody.

She climbed the steps to her house, stopping outside of her home. She hadn't the slightest clue of the time, and she wasn't eager for her mother to discover the gifts. At a greater risk that she liked, she left the packages on the porch and went inside.

It was quiet in the house. She peeked into the sitting room, and John was asleep on the sofa. Her mother was no where to be seen, but there was a note on the table.

_Hazel, _it read, _had to report to work. Left John sleeping in the parlor. Hope it won't inconvenience you. Love, Mother. _

When she finished reading, Hazel heaved a sigh and rushed outside to retrieve her things. Thankfully, they were still exactly where she left them, the contents still in place.

She dragged all of the items up to her room, pausing to look at the clock on the landing. It read two in the afternoon. Hazel was surprised her mother hadn't come looking for her. At any rate, Hazel was exhausted, be as it may two in the afternoon. Surrounded by her day's purchases, she curled up on the floor and closed her eyes.

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><p><strong>Cliff hangers make things so much more enticing. <strong>

**Make sure you review and subscribe to the story so you can actually know when I'm updating. Let's say for every person who reviews or follows the story, I'll add an extra 100 words to the chapter! Bring it on, people! It just occured to me that you're probably missing Sammy :( Review if you want more words-and Sammy!**

**Thank you!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi guys. Yes, I know it's been like a month since I've updated, but let me justify this prolonged absense:**

**1. Infected bug bite (long, crazy story). Yeah. I was messing with an ant hill and an ant bit me on the foot. Not a bit deal, right? Well, it got infected and I had to go to the ER. Also school and a bunch of other crap got in the way, not to mention the extra words I had put in *Cough* *Cough* **

**Anyway, I got nine reviews, and I promised I'd give 200 words for someone, so that equal 1,000 extra words! 0.0 And then some, just because I couldn't leave you guys hanging. My point is, you'd better be happy because you get like, a mega long chapter. And I've noticed it's a little deeper than the stuff I usually write for this story. **

**Anyway, this A/N is getting to be almost obnoxious in length, so on to the Hall of Fame!**

**-Hall of Fame-  
>~melody55- I don't really know about that at this point. I'll think about it.<br>~Captain Cynthia  
>~pjoperson<br>~Kasserlena  
>~booklover29<br>~unknown lunatic  
>~BananaBurger13<br>****~To LexieDaughterofPoseidon13: It won't let me punctuate your username properly! I'm sorry! D:  
>~irmaida<br>*I will reply to any anonymous reviews in the Hall of Fame. I will make an effort to reply to all other in PMs***

**Just a reminder: This story just follows the general outline of Hazel's life and surroundings. I reserve the right to make changes as I please. **

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><p>Curled up on the floor, Hazel fell asleep momentarily. She hadn't intended to—just take a little break, lie down for a while. But as she drifted off into the place that was the land of slumber, her awareness did not flee as it normally would.<p>

A sudden pull, a hard tug, really, and she was free from her body—and headed straight down. She sank through her bedroom floor, down into the parlor, where John sat on the couch. There was a mug of tea in his hand, but it wasn't steaming; his eyes were blank.

_Whoosh_. John was replaced by their dank cellar, almost completely bare, save for a few things from Marie's fortune telling business.

_Whoosh. _The cellar was gone. Dirt and bugs and disgusting creatures that Hazel had never seen before went by in a blur. She winced as her vapor-like form passed through a set of winding underground pipes.

She kept falling and falling, unable to feel anything, passing by colonies of ants and darkness dwelling creatures like badgers. Then, signs of life slowed to a halt. It became pitch black.

The next view she had was one that was growing familiar. It was her father's palace. The skeleton trees were still as she loped forward, as graceful as the dead, as light as a ghost. The courtyard was more orderly than the last time she had visited; in fact, it was bare. The garden was in order, and all was peaceful. It wasn't at all how Hazel imagined death.

The structure loomed before her, but she wasn't intimidated; she rarely was by anything. She floated up the onyx steps, which swirled black with rotten souls of the Underworld. At that she shuddered. Serving Pluto for an eternity was not an appealing prospect.

Hazel glanced behind herself, and in the distance, she could see a peculiar-looking dog animal—Cerberus. Thankfully, he seemed to be keeping his distance. Come to the think of it, Hazel didn't seem to remember seeing him last time, either.

_Unlike_ last time, however, she did not pass through the doors. She reached her hand out, and it struck the dark wood, and she materialized in an instant, her feet slamming to the ground. She yanked on the handle of the heavy door. She was surprised to find that it eased open, and in response to her jerking action, the door opened with more force than she expected, sending her stumbling backwards.

A muffled, sniggering laugh emanated from inside the dark castle. Hazel frowned. Someone was has seen her hiccup. She straightened herself, squaring her shoulders and strutting toward the door. It abruptly slammed shut a second before Hazel entered.

The laugh, louder, more boisterous this time, echoed from somewhere deep within the castle. Hazel pulled on the handle again, but the door was stuck tight. She kept tugging, harder and harder, until she could feel the vein protruding from her forehead.

Hazel stepped back from the door, wiping the sweat from her brow. She couldn't remember the last time she had broken a sweat in a dream. She decided to give it one last heave before giving up.

The second she touched the door, it opened inward, and she fell inside, skidding on the black marble floor. The laughter heightened, and then abruptly turned silent. Hazel picked herself up off the slick floor and looked around her. The room was dizzyingly large, and seemed to oscillate before her. Columns of glowing green fire blazed in every corner—if there were actually any corners. The space seemed to shift every time Hazel turned her head.

When she finally decided on the direction to go, the room seemed to make up its mind, too, settling on one solitary appearance. This made Hazel sigh gratefully.

She wound her way through the dark corridors of the palace, slowly coming to realize that she hadn't the slightest clue as to why she was even here. Her thoughts seemed muddle in here, not like outside, where she felt clearheaded and sure of herself. She belonged here, she supposed, though the thought made her a bit uneasy. It was a strange thing, feeling at home in the realm of the Dead. But it was what it was, as her mother had told her continuously when she was younger. They were just poor; they just lived in a run down split-level the suburbs of New Orleans; she was a daughter of Pluto; and that was that.

Hazel wondered faintly if she should be headed toward the throne room. Not that she knew where it or anything else was. So far, she hadn't even seen any doors. She also realized that she hadn't come across any forks in the corridors, no corners or other paths to take. She had been traversing the same passageway for—how long? She couldn't even remember.

Feet aching, Hazel sat down along the curved wall, wishing that she was a specter with the ability to float through walls. Maybe then she could find her way to…wherever she was meant to go.

She leaned her head back in sheer exhaustion, and the wall gave way, sending her tumbling into darkness. A few seconds later, she struck her forehead on something.

"Golly!" she exclaimed, rubbing her head. A lump was already forming there. A titter sounded from above her.

"Mother, don't torment the child," a soft, melodic voice scolded.

Hazel opened her eyes—she hadn't even realized they were closed. She was kneeling, her head bent over, on a marble stair. She looked up to find herself before two thrones occupied by two women.

_This isn't right, _Hazel thought. Her father was supposed to be seated in one of the two. She allowed her gaze to dart between the two women. She recognized one to her Proserpina, her godly stepmother, but she had never seen the other before. Both had long, fair hair, and dancing eyes, the colors shifting constantly.

"This child is vermin," the woman in Hazel's father's seat spat. "She'll kneel before me!" She must have been godly, for no other would speak in such powerful tones, or have the audacity to take the seat of the Lord of the dead billions.

"Mother," Proserpina cast her eyes down at Hazel, but the gaze lacked interest or care. "You must be careful with her. She is delicate. Human. Lord Pluto wouldn't be pleased if you harmed her. This one is… particularly important to him."

"Who are you?" Hazel demanded, straightening. The other woman hissed, and the next thing she was aware of was her nose, sandwiched between the rest of her face and the floor.

"Down!" the woman barked. "You dare speak to me? You dare question my identity? As if you do not already know. All know of me!"

"Mother," Proserpina snapped. "Really, you're not the most splendid of the goddesses. The girl's mother is… Mortal. She is shielded from knowledge of us."

"Feeble excuses," Mother muttered.

"I asked who you are!" Hazel shouted boldly. Vines twined around her wrists and ankles. "And where is my father? Why have I been summoned? I demand explanations!"

"Hush, child," Proserpina murmured, and the vine slithered away.

"You treat fondly the scum of your wedded," her mother commented, the vines lashed painfully around Hazel once again.

"I will not have my husband's child treated so!" Proserpina cried, her impassive boredom vanishing. "Not this child," she added, so softly she must've thought that neither Hazel nor her mother had heard. What was so special about Hazel? What made her different from any of her father's other children?

"Where is my father?" Hazel repeated, patience wearing thin. She needed answers. What feud did she have with this woman that she had never met? Who was she? Had she caused Hazel's troubles upon arriving here? Had she been the one to _send _for her?

"I rather enjoyed impeding your speedy arrival, child," the woman cackled, seeming to read Hazel's thoughts. "But I suppose you are wanting enlightenment. I am Ceres, goddess of all things good." Proserpina rolled her eyes, placing her chin in her elegant hand. Hazel could almost hear the "_Mother_" already. "Your father summoned you for reasons unbeknownst to me, but I can guess as to what he so desperately needed to tell you." A smirk crossed her lips, which quickly grew into a full sneer.

"If he so desperately needed to see me," Hazel said, "He should be here, should he not be?"

"Enough questions, child," Proserpina ordered, her eyes blazing orange, either like hell-fire or autumn leaves, Hazel couldn't quite decide. She could however, decide that she was fed up with being called a child.

"I am not a child," she said, holding her head up and praying to Pluto that it would not be smashed into the ground once again by Ceres. "And I will not be mark as one."

At this both of the goddesses scoffed. "When you have lived for millennia," Ceres jeered, "and have eternity stretched out before you, you will have the right to be something other than a child. You have lived but a blink in our eyes, _child_." She drew out the word, so it was as if Hazel would never be anything but it.

It was quite for a time, and Hazel could feel the hot blood trickling down her forehead. It slid down her face, into her eyes. The first drop that slid down her nose hung suspended on the tip. She watched it closely as it fell to the floor, time fluxuating around the single moment when her blood dripped to the cold stone.

Instantly the step turned ruby red, rumbling violently. Hazel snapped up her head, Ceres shrieked, and Proserpina's eyes widened with fear. _Why are they afraid? _Hazel wondered. It wasn't that she wasn't frightened stiff, but, at least for her, most fears ultimately resulted in death. The goddesses were immortal. Why did they fear?

"Who has dared to spill the blood of my lineage?" A powerful voice boomed, so loudly that Ceres cringed. Pluto slammed his foot to the floor, and it rippled, returning to blackness and jarring Hazel, still on the ground, in the process. He had another man with him, dressed in dark purple robe. Just looking at him made Hazel feel sleepy.

"I warned her, Lord," Proserpina cooed, hurrying her husband's side and touching his shoulder. "Did I not, Mother?"

Ceres stepped elegantly from Pluto's throne, which was more dangerous than staying seated, Hazel thought. "Yes, daughter. You did warn me."

"Leave, Ceres," Pluto ordered. "You will have your daughter in due time. Do not bother _my _daughter again, or you can be assured there will be repercussions."

Ceres bowed, her image waning and then vanishing completely.

"Forgive my mother, Hazel Levesque," Proserpina apologized. "She has no quarrel with you."

"And you?" Hazel asked. It was just a bit too strange for Proserpina to show so much contempt toward her at their last meeting, and then shift into civil treatment.

"I have no quarrel with you, either," she said calmly. "Others like you, yes, but you, no."

_Others like me? _Hazel figured it would be best to remain silent now. She'd asked enough questions.

"Hazel," her father said gently. "You're… different from my other children. And I am at fault." _What? _Her look of confusion must've registered on her face, because he sighed. "Let me show you." He nodded at the robbed man, and drifted over toward Hazel. She instinctively stepped back, but he touched his palms to Hazel's temples.

Hazel's vision was immediately clouded by a hazy vision. She was young, perhaps three or so, and she was peeking into the parlor of their old house, which was in the heart of New Orleans. They lived above a club, where her mother used to tell fortunes at night while Hazel tried to sleep over the noise of the jazz band.

Hazel held tight to her teddy bear, one of the only toys she'd had at the time. Her mother was irritable in those days, and, in a rage, had thrown it out one day. She clutched it like she knew it was one of the last times she would have it. She leaned closer to the door. It was clear that two people were having a heated argument, but Hazel's mother never had anyone over. And besides, she was supposed to be working right now. So who could it be?

"This is all your fault!" her mother hissed angrily. "I can hardly take care of Hazel! You shouldn't have left me alone with her!"

"What was I to do?" This voice was male, and making much less of an effort to stay quiet. "I can't favor you over the others. I can only do so much."

"You're a god!" Her mother shrieked. "You can figure out something! Oh, this is _all your fault_! Couldn't you at least give me something useful? I fell in love with a god!" she went on, "Do I not deserve any riches or gifts? Did you cease to love me? I believe you have, as all I have is a cursed child to take care of! _She_'s all you've ever given me!"

"Your child is not a curse," the male voice warned, and Hazel inched the door open a little further, quiet, careful, so neither of them would notice.

"So you say," her mother scoffed. At the time it must not have registered to Hazel what her mother was saying—she didn't even remember this happening—but now, in her stupor, the words stung. She wanted to wake up from this dream, but she couldn't.

"I will make your child a curse," the man warned. Young Hazel still didn't know who it was, but real Hazel did. It was her father.

"You don't need to!" Her mother screamed. "She already is!"

Young Hazel did understand this. Tears started streaming from her eyes, and she sat down outside the door, her teddy bear to her chest.

"You say you want riches." Hazel's mother nodded. "You say our child is a curse. You will get your riches, oh yes you will. And your child will be a curse. That I can promise."

Hazel's eyes flew open. It was day outside, and the birds were chirping a merry melody. The sun was high, and she couldn't smell the usual scent of breakfast. She must've been gone through the night.

She touched her forehead; it was sore and crusted with the blood she had shed in the Underworld.

Her dream had been a reality.

* * *

><p><strong>100 extra words to anyone who can guess who the god in the robes is! <strong>

**I want to remind you all how important reviews are to me. I really appreciate them all, and it also makes me feel super good when you add my story to your notifications :) Thank you all!**

**I also want to apologize for any mistakes in this chapter. I just kind of skimmed it for errors, as I wanted to get it out as quickly as possible :)**


	9. Chapter 9

! Yeah, I didn't realize how long it's been since I updated. Over two months! Yikes! And I haven't done anything with Sammy since Christmas time? What? Why didn't you guys tell me?

Well anyway, I was going to skip the Hall of Fame this time, but I figure you guys deserve it after waiting so long for a chapter:

~HALL OF FAME~  
>-Congratulations to all of you who got the question correct! You will be posted here if your answer was: <span>Morpheus<span>  
>~booklover29. You were the only one to get it correct in the actual reviews.<br>~pjoperson sent it to me in a PM.. Does that even count? I don't know..

~Other Hall of Fame~ For the people who didn't get it right... Or didn't try  
>-LalaBane<br>-Anonymous reviewer: Oh well  
>-Anonymous reviewer: ohhh ohhh ohhh- Sorry D: Wrong answer!<br>-Lemariz  
>-unknown lunatic<br>-Anonymous Reviewer: anon-K  
>-BananaBurger13<br>-luciangyffindordemigodandmore-Rockin' username  
>-Reptile Princess<p>

But, lucky for you guys, I gave 100 extra words to anyone who guessed Hypnos, which is a fantastic second guess.

* * *

><p>When Hazel thought of her dreaming reality, she felt sick to her stomach. It was late by the time she had awoken, and her mother had surely seen the gifts strewn around her. It didn't matter. How she had obtained the money, however, was a different story.<p>

Hazel trudged down the stairs in the clothes she had worn the day before, her hair tousled. John was still on the sofa. Hazel groaned inwardly. How long would he stay?

The news paper sat face down on the table. Hazel picked it up cautiously, thoroughly expecting to see an article about the mysterious death of the owner of a certain pawn shop. Nothing.

Hazel heaved a sigh of relief. The house was quiet, save for John's snoring in the sitting room. Her mother must've already left for work.

Hazel vaguely hoped that Marie had the day off from work tomorrow. That day was Christmas eve; she couldn't work forever.

Hazel heated up the cold soup that her mother had most likely made for dinner the previous night. She ladled out a bowl for herself and a second for John, setting on a side table next to him. She took her own bowl up to her room, stopping to glance at her reflection in the mirror on the landing of the stairs.

Her hair was a mess of flyaway curls and frizz. She touched her tender forehead, were blood was still caked. She shivered at the thought of Ceres, forcing her to bow down to her. She would have to think up on excuse for the gash on her head. She had slipped or something on some ice or something along those lines.

Tearing her eyes away from her reflection, Hazel stumbled into the bathroom to clean herself up, wiping the blood from her forehead to assess the damage done.

There was a long cut where her head had struck the edge of the stair. It had somehow looked less intimidating with blood smattered over it. It was deep and grotesque looking. There were few possible ways of acquiring a wound like this. It looked as if a knife had sliced through her forehead to the bone. And boy did it hurt.

In hindsight she supposed, it had been more of a dull ache, more easily ignored. Now it hissed and throbbed with pain, making her dizzy. Unable to stand the gruesome sight of it any longer, she pulled roll of gauze one of the drawers, hastily wrapping it around the wound.

After she had washed her hair, her gnarled curls now controlled, she noticed, as she was pulling on fresh clothes, she noticed that there was blood on the carpet. She shoved her bed over the stain, though it looked awkward in the center of the room. She would deal with that later. Maybe some fresh air would clear her head.

She pulled at her coat, but it would not come free. She tugged at it until the stand clattered to the ground as well as the coat.

She heard John stirring in the sitting room. "Marie?" he called faintly. Hazel wondered whether or not she could leave the grief stricken man to his own devices. He'll be fine, she thought. What she really wanted was to get some snow to press to her burning wound. What she really wanted was to not have to worry about John Hannah, a grown man, being able to take care of himself. What she really wanted was to turn back time and never sell those jewels to Mr. Hannah.

But she wasn't going to worry about that now. Today was Hazel's day, and no one else's.

She ducked out of the house, buttoning her ragged coat as she walked down the street, which was slick with ice. It was her intention to see Sammy. It felt like it had been forever with everything that had happened over the past few days, and she just couldn't take in any longer.

She rushed down the walk, half sliding, half walking, contemplating how best to get Sammy's attention, and momentarily forgetting about the gash on her head. It was later in the day, but his mother might not appreciate Hazel intruding. She was probably preparing Christmas dinner, an even Hazel and her mother would not be attending.

Still, she could not shake the feeling that she was unwanted by Sammy, what with him rushing away that one day. She frowned, wrinkling her cold nose and crossing her arms over her chest to keep herself warm.

It was much to her shock that, as she turned the next corner, she bumped directly into the boyfriend in question—Sammy.

"Oh, golly," she murmured, righting her scarf, her cheeks burning.

"Hazel," Sammy look utterly delighted to see her, which surprised Hazel. It surprised her a lot. He hugged her suddenly. She stiffened at first, and the let herself sag onto him, the happenings of the last few days suddenly making her feel very tired.

"I…" she trailed off, pulling away from him slowly. "I…"

Sammy spoke up for her, the grin still plastered on his face. "I know my mom would love some help with dinner for tomorrow, if you're still coming."

"About that—" Hazel began, but Sammy cut across her.

"You don't have to," he assured her. "I just escaped. After she had me pull the turkey from the—golly, what happened to your head?" he asked, pressing his hand to the bandage. Pain shot through Hazel, and she winced.

"I slipped and fell earlier," she said quickly. "Look, Sammy, I'm not sure if my mother and I can make it tomorrow—"

"Sorry, Hazel," Sammy said, leading her by the arm in the direction of his house. "I think I made your head start bleeding again. Gosh, I feel so awful."

Hazel, wishing that Sammy would stop interrupting her but feeling equal glad that she was with him, reached up with her free hand to feel the cut. Her hand came away bloody. "Great," she muttered.

"What was that?" Sammy asked worriedly. "Are you all right? I'll take you to my mother and she'll fix you up properly. Say, where's _your _mother at?"

"She working," Hazel replied, feeling a little flustered from walking so quickly. And she was so lightheaded that she sun made her dizzy. She did not want to pass out again—that would be the second time in less than a day.

Sammy nimbly scaled the brick steps at the entrance to his home, but Hazel, clumsy with fatigue, stumbled up gripping her boyfriend's hand as she went.

Sammy's younger sister Linda gazed at them though the front window as Sammy pulled open the door.

"Hi," said the little girl, pulling on a lock of her golden blonde hair. It was arrow straight. "I like your hair."

"Go away, Linda," said Sammy irritably, guiding Hazel through the kitchen door. "Mother," he called.

A tall woman, leaning over a stove looked up. She looked to Hazel like the type of mother who might be in one of the movies that she saw at the theater when one of her friends could spare an extra dime for her to go. She wore powder-blue heels, a matching dress, and an apron. Her blonde hair, precisely the same color as Sammy's and Linda's, was cropped back, curling slightly around her ears.

She blinked in surprise. "Sammy—"

"This is Hazel," Sammy explained quickly. "My…"

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she noticed Hazel hold her hand to her forehead. She hurried over, her heels clacking on the hard floor.

"Oh my," she said, gently pulling Hazel's hand from the bandage. Judging from her look of shock, the cut was bleeding even more than it had been before. "Sammy, get her out of the kitchen. Don't worry, Darlin'," her voice was soft, holding the native Louisianan accent, "I'll get you sorted out."

"She slipped," Sammy explained as his mother washed and toweled her hands.

"Don't stand there," she scolded him good naturedly. "Take her up to the bathroom."

Hazel was feeling considerably better since getting out of the cold and was able to make it up the stairs with no trouble. She sat down on the toilet, watching Sammy as he leaned against the sink casually.

"What were you saying to me earlier?" he asked, tapping his fingers on the porcelain. "About you and your mother?"

Hazel took a deep breath. "This is going to sound crazy." The words came out rushed and jumbled. "But you know how Mr. Hannah from Hannah Jewelers down the street died the other day?" She paused, waiting for an answer, and Sammy nodded. "Well, my mother was—is—seeing his son." Sammy's mouth fell open, but Hazel continued anyway. "And he's been sitting on my sofa for the past few days." She stopped then, contemplating whether or not to tell Sammy about the crazy jewels popping up all over the place. She decided against it. That was just too bizarre. And they were _killing _people. The thought sent a shiver up Hazel's spine.

"Golly, Hazel," Sammy said. "If I didn't know you so well, I'd say that you made up the whole thing." He smiled. "Is Mr. Hannah planning something for you and your mother? If he is, my mother will understand."

"No," Hazel said in a clipped tone of voice. "He's done nothing but take up the sofa and drink tea. And he cries. It's humiliating to see a grown man cry."

Sammy laughed a loud, and his mother came into the room carrying a first aid case. She unwound the soiled bandage from Hazel's curls and used a cloth to clean the blood. "What happened again?" she asked.

"I already told you, Mother," Sammy said impatiently. "She slipped."

"It looks like she was sliced with somethin'," she mused.

"Ice," Hazel murmured weakly.

"Well, if you and Marie join us for dinner tomorrow, I'll take a look at it again." She clipped the edge of the tightly wrapped bandage. "You are join' us, right?"

Hazel hesitated, and then nodded. "We'll try our best," she amended. "We're having some… trouble at home, though."

Sammy's mother patted her hand. "Well, if it's anythin' we can fix, I'll send Sammy straight over." She stood, straightening her dress and loped from the room. Hazel noticed that she was quite tall, something she did not share with her son.

"Your mother is nice," Hazel told Sammy sincerely. "But I suppose I shouldn't stick around to help with dinner. I may bleed on the delicious food your mother prepared."

Sammy rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything, letting her lead the way downstairs.

At the door, Hazel realized that she hadn't gotten anything for Sammy for Christmas. She decided that it be worth asking to make Sammy happy.

She kicked her leg, scuffing her shoe on the hardwood floor. "So, what do you want for Christmas, Sammy?"

He thought for a moment, then said, "I'll tell you tomorrow."

"But it'll be too late by then," she protested. "How can get it if—"

"You don't have to get it," Sammy said thoughtfully. "Just give it." He opened the door and pushed her unceremoniously from the house. "Merry Christmas, Hazel. And you and better come tomorrow."

Then last thing Hazel saw before the door shut was the flick of a blonde head and the flash of a boyish grin.

* * *

><p>Sorry about the delay, I will try to have the next chapter up in about a week. And I will still hold to my 100 extra word policy even though it is getting very difficult to for me to write so much extra due to my copious amounts of summer work that I just want to get out of the way so I will have more time to write for you guys :D So 100 extra words for every review!<p>

Thanks for reading!  
>Post-script: In case you ever wondered what P.S. stood for.. Anyway, I didn't edit this, like, at all. I put it up DIRECTLY after I was finished with it so please notify me of any errors. Thanks!<p> 


	10. Author Note

**A/N:** Hey Guys :D I was sincerely wondering if anyone would be interested in this story if I updated it sometime soon. I could probably have a chapter ready in a day or two, three tops.

If you're interested, subscribed to to this story and have been waiting, etc., you can either review this chapter or PM saying that you would like to see me keep updating. I'm not expecting anything, just wondering if anyone is interested.

A million thanks from your lovely author,

Abbi


	11. Chapter 10

***Warning: Extremely Long A/N to follow this warning* **XD

**So… John has been lying on the couch for like four whole chapters, so I decided that it was finally time to do something with him. Also, it seems a lot of people have been praising me for my creative genius, but alas, I am not what you think I am. I'm winging this all and I do not possess any significant amounts of creativity. But on to the important stuff:**

**I'm sorry! I honestly don't know why I haven't been writing. I kind of got distracted with other stories (which I never saw fit to post), I was busy with school, I thought everyone had stopped reading it, *shrinks back in a corner* I kind of forgot that this one existed… But that aside, the response has been overwhelming! I had like 10 people interested in me continuing this story**

**Hall of Fame. Yeah, I'm feeling really lazy and, as usual, this is going to make my author's note obnoxiously long but:**

**Hall of Fame:**

**(As usual, I will reply to anonymous reviews during this segment)**

**-pjoperson-I know you're not an anonymous reviewer, but you. are. awesome.  
>-booklover29-You're really awesome too.<br>-SmileyApollo1  
>-Christal0301<br>-childofjunofreak  
>-tissue729<br>-Wisdom's Daughter Alone-and you.  
>-beauty behind the words<br>-Ninjacatz  
>-greenrose15<br>-Guest  
>-EllOhVeEe1997<br>-Other Guest (If you're not the same person...) And thanks for your nice comment, by the way. It made me fell good :)**

**I just have to say this: You guys have some creative usernames.  
><strong>

**Anyway, I kind of feel like a fail for admitting this, and I don't know if some of you readers who are also authors can relate to this, but… I kind of forgot what happened in this story. I was trying to figure out when the last time I updated was before my A/N, but I don't remember. That being said, I believe "a long time ago" would be an accurate time frame in this case. **

**Anyway, you guys have been waiting long enough to find out what the heck it is that Sammy wants for Christmas, so here it goes:**

* * *

><p>The wooden steps creaked underneath Hazel's feet. During her walk home, she had contemplated what Sammy could possibly want that couldn't be bought. <em>You just have to give it<em>, he had said. As far as Hazel could discern, it couldn't be made either.

_You're awfully good at cooking up riddles, Sammy Valdez, _Hazel thought to herself as she opened the door. It was time to get back to Rich's. Sammy would just have to settle for whatever she could find him. Though, she was a little hesitant to head out again with the money she had, especially after all the trouble it had caused. Well, not the money exactly, but the gems. However rude Mr. Hannah had been to her, she hadn't meant to kill him.

But this, she decided, was a special situation. She couldn't just walk into Sammy's house tomorrow evening present-less. Hazel wasn't sure when, but at some point she had decided that she was going to attend Christmas dinner at Sammy's. How could she not? He was her boyfriend after all, and she couldn't stand him up.

She turned the key in the lock, intending to go straight up to her room to retrieve her money. Instead she crashed directly into a bewildered looking John Hannah.

Hazel stumbled backwards, her foot sliding off the first step. She slid down the remainder of ice-slickened stairs, skidding to a halt on the sidewalk below.

"Oh, Lord," John murmured, hurrying down the steps to help Hazel up. She had never heard him speak before—when he had first shown up at their house she hadn't given him the chance. He voice had a nice lull to it, she thought. John offered Hazel his hand, and she took it graciously. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't expecting—" John began, but he stopped suddenly.

Hazel brushed the snow from her coat, glancing behind her. An utterly exhausted Marie was trudging down the sidewalk. Her coat was unbuttoned, and her hat was balanced precariously on her curls. She looked tired, but she was smiling. She waved, and for a moment Hazel thought that her mother was waving at her, and she lifted her hand. When she realized that John was gesturing at Marie, Hazel dropped her hand, embarrassed, her cheeks burning.

Hazel watched her mother drop something in her pocket, the smile melting off her face. She hastened her step toward the house.

"Where are you going?" Marie asked in a near frantic tone. John took her wrist and kissed her, right in front of Hazel. _Yuck_, she thought, looking away. Marie backed away, her cheeks flushing. "I told you to stay in the house."

John sighed, straightening his hat. "I appreciate your kindness, Marie," he said, his voice still the same lilting murmur. "But I realize that I really have outstayed my welcome." Hazel's mother looked about ready to protest, but John did not give her the chance. "It is time for me to get my father's affairs in order. Though your sofa made a fine temporary home, I do have a place where I belong."

Hazel's mother nodded slowly. "Let Hazel and I join you, then," she insisted. "I've been let off work early for the holidays. Please, let us come with you." She paused then, looking at Hazel. "You can tell me what happened to your head later, Hazel."

John hesitated. "I really should go alone," he said finally. Hazel watched her mother's face fall.

"You should rest, Mother," Hazel encouraged. "You've been working awful hard lately, and you need a break. Take a nap." She guided her toward the stairs. John glanced over his shoulder once more before heading off.

"Hazel," her mother chided once they were inside the house. "I know you don't like John, but you have to accept—" Hazel had to interrupt.

"John looked like he needed to be alone," Hazel said gently. "And I thought it over; he looks like an alright guy." Marie smiled faintly. "Rest," Hazel insisted, pushing her mother up the second flight of stairs. She seemed to be in a daze.

"Thank you, Hazel," her mother said from behind her bedroom door, "for giving John a chance."

Hazel smiled, her mind revving. She still wasn't certain about how she felt about John, but she was grateful that her mother had not grilled her from information on her injury. She didn't want to have to explain her trip to the Underworld. They never discussed her father. Ever. Hazel had learned not to ask about him, mostly because she knew that she wouldn't get any answers. His name was Pluto. He was a God. That was the extent of her knowledge. She had never doubted it for some reason, even though she had no memories of him. Not until a few nights ago.

But something was still nagging at the back of her mind. Her mother had never told her about the curse. Hazel was hoping against hope that her mother had never discovered it, but it seemed unlikely. She hated the thought that there was a secret that was being kept from her. Once John was added to the equation, it seemed like Hazel's mother was lying to her more and more. What else had she kept from her?

Hazel retrieved the money from inside of one of the bags, shoving them in the window alcove, where they couldn't be seen. Her head ached dully. She didn't want to look at it, but she had a feeling that the bandage would have to be changed soon. Should she go back to Sammy's? She would figure it out later. Now it was time to do some more shopping.

The scent of hot waffles from a cart drifted down the street, and a street trolley whisked past Hazel. She wondered if she had enough money to take one. She unfolded her stack of bills. She still had sixteen dollars.

As she was making her way to the trolley stop on Green Street, she stopped short. John was outside Hannah Jewelers, and he seemed to be arguing with a man. The trolley stopped, and people began shoving past Hazel to board.

Hazel turned around. She was just a little to curious to get on the trolley. Besides, she had been meaning to actually speak with John. A high pitched snigger came from behind her.

"What's the matter, Levesque?" Charlotte Birch's bleach-blonde hair was blindingly white in the sunlight. She was without her cronies today, but she somehow looked a little more intimidating outside the schoolyard. "Realized you didn't have enough money to ride?" she bent down, and Hazel scowled, noting Charlotte particularly unfashionable plaid coat. Hazel thought she was rid of Charlotte, if only for the holidays. "Here," she said, tossing something at Hazel. It landed at her feet with a _click. _It was a penny. "I know you need all you can get."

Hazel was about ready to knock Charlotte to the ground, but someone beat her to it. The man who had been arguing with John was tearing down the street. Hazel looked back towards the jewelry store, where John was standing. He looked too tired to chase after the man. Charlotte was moaning about how her new shoes were scuffed and how she dress was going to be ruined. Hazel ignored her.

"What happened?"She asked John, her brows folding into a frown.

"That was my night guard," John said, wringing his hands together. He was without gloves. "I'm supposed to see him off at six every morning, but I haven't shown up for the past day or two." _Or three, _Hazel thought. She supposed he had an excuse, since his father had just passed away. "I was taking inventory this morning, and I noticed that there were a few items missing. So I called him. It took him a few minutes to show up, but I questioned him. When I threatened to call the police, he took off."

"Golly," Hazel murmured. "I'm awful sorry, Mr. Hannah."

John was able to muster up a slight smile. "Call me John."

Hazel smiled back. She couldn't help being drawn into liking him. He _was_ rather endearing; Hazel could see why her mother liked him.

"You don't mind if I take a look inside with you, do ya, Mr. Hannah—John?" Hazel wasn't interested in gawking at gems though. She just wanted to get her diamonds back, and then maybe bury them where they couldn't hurt anyone else.

"Of course not." John held the door for her, escorting her inside. "Welcome."

Hazel couldn't help but gawk when she entered. It was only her second time in the shop, and, though she hadn't wanted to admit it the first time, she had been quite nervous. Too nervous to notice all of the splendor around her, apparently. John quickly locked the door, as if he was afraid someone would burst in directly behind them.

There were cases full of glittering stones of all different cuts. There were rings, bracelets, and anklets; Mannequins displayed expensive looking necklaces that Hazel was to afraid to touch.

"Imitations," John said from behind the counter. "That's why they're not under the glass."

"What're they made of, then?" Hazel asked, curious.

"Cut glass," John said absently, gesturing for Hazel to come behind the counter. She cautiously backed away from the headless and body-less models and pushed open the gate that led behind the glass case. John locked it again immediately, as he had done with the door. Hazel sympathized with him. Who wouldn't be edgy with all of these precious gems around?

John was scribbling on a note pad, his pen hovering over the items he was counting. He was so absorbed in his work that he seemed to have forgotten inviting Hazel behind the counter.

"So, what's missing?" John looked up, appearing a little startled.

"A few bracelets," he said. "But what troubles me most is that my father's last purchase is missing. The receipt and all." His face took on a distant quality.

"What did he purchase?" Hazel asked hesitantly, though she already had a sneaking suspicion of what it could be.

John didn't look at her. "Diamonds."

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><p><strong>Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to keep writing! I had a lot of fun with this chapter, although it doesn't seem like it went very far in terms of time in the story world... <strong>

**I will try to have a new chapter up before the end of the Thanksgiving break, but I'm not sure how things are going to go after that since I'm generally really busy with school. **

**So yeah.. Keep reviewing! The extra 100 words per review is kind of getting away from me, but I'll try! I really couldn't add 1,500 extra words for this chapter because you guys would have been waiting forever, but I promise I will keep trying! I've already started on the next chapter!**

**And I didn't really feel like proof reading this. And I need a beta *hint, hint*. And I still haven't gotten to what Sammy wants for Christmas. And I will try to have a chapter up for the year anniversary (which I just realized is Thanksgiving day)! Also, I was wondering if any of you guys are not from America. Just curious. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	12. Chapter 11

**Alright, guys. I'm could pretend that I'm not disappointed with the review turn out, but I am! I'm not saying that 4 reviews isn't a good number, because it is, and I'm grateful for all of them. But if you read, I beg of you, please review! I desperately want to know what you guys think of what I've written. Desperately. **

**Now, since my dramatic plea for reviews is over, I suppose we can move onto the Hall of Fame: **

**Hall Of Fame  
>-pjoperson<br>-Ninjacatz  
>-booklover29<br>-tissue729**

**Thank you, lovely readers. Even if you didn't review, I still appreciate you. Very much. **

**Now read. **

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><p>Hazel's mind was whirring. If Mr. Hannah's last purchase had been diamonds, then that meant she had been the last person to sell to him. Not that she hadn't thought as much. The only thing was, he hadn't purchased the diamonds from her. He had taken them. He had stolen them. That clearly explained why there wasn't a receipt. But if the diamonds weren't there that meant—<p>

"I know the night guard swiped them," John went on. "No one else had the opportunity. My father had only just taken inventory on them. I never even had the chance to see them—"

Hazel was too distracted to listen to what John was saying. If the night guard had taken the diamonds from the jewelry store, that meant he was going to die too. Hazel felt sick to her stomach. How could she be responsible for the death of so many people? That was three already, and who knew how many more could be to come.

"I'm not feeling so well, John," Hazel said. "I think I should go."

It was only then that John took more than a quick glance at her. He had been so immersed in his business that he had hardly paid Hazel any attention. "It must be that cut on your head," he said gently. "You head on home and change the bandage. I think it may still be bleeding."

Hazel nodded, and John unlocked the gate for her. He was swinging it open when he paused. "One more thing, Hazel," he said. Hazel was amazed when he left the gate unlocked and moved toward the display case. "I thought you could help me with something."

Hazel's eyes widened as he gestured toward a row of boxed-up wedding rings. "Which do you think your mother would like best?" he asked. Hazel couldn't decide. They were all so magnificent, so breath-taking. Each faceted stone caught the light at the perfect angle, sending rays of rainbow-colored light dancing around the glass case. When she caught sight of the number of zeros on the price tag she nearly fainted. She hardly knew this man and he was willing and ready to give marry her mother.

She took a deep breath, trying her best to sound adult and business-like. "How did you meet my mother, John?"

A genuine smile crossed John's face this time. "It must've been over a year now," he said. _A year? _Hazel thought. _And it took her until just a few days ago to tell me about it? _"I'm not sure why, but I wandered into her little fortune-telling place. And she told me my fortune." He stopped speaking then, his face taking on that spaced, distant look again.

_What else would she have done?_ Hazel thought, biting back a witty retort. "What was the fortune?"

John shook himself. "Oh, I don't know. Something about the sky and the stars."

"Oh." She wasn't sure what she had expected. Maybe that her mother had prophesized that she and John would spend the rest of their lives together, or something romantic along those lines. But it turned out that John didn't even remember.

"But I remember thinking that your mother was very pretty, Hazel, and that I might want to see her again. So I kept coming back."

Hazel had a million questions and unvoiced comments around spinning her head at that second. She wondered what possessed the male brain when it came to women, and she couldn't help thinking how strange it must have been for her mother when John kept coming back. Reminiscing on it, it was sweet, but the time it must have been a little scary.

"She never commented on my frequency, though, not until later," John said, seeming to read Hazel's thoughts. He appeared to be a little disappointed.

"She had a lot of regulars," Hazel assured him. Granted, most of them had been elderly, superstitious women, but still.

"One evening, she was in the middle of putting on her usual act," John continued as if Hazel hadn't spoken, "she was quite good, your mother, conjuring up imaginary visions, and she always had very convincing foresights." Hazel smiled at this, thinking of all the nights her mother had spent by the radio thinking of fortunes and running them by Hazel. _They're all good,_ she used to tell her mother. She was clever with words. "Well, she just stopped. She took off that silly hat and told me that she wanted to do something different with her life. She didn't want to tell meaningless fortunes anymore, but she was stuck because it was the only thing she had ever done. She was considering moving away to Alaska because she something was bothering her and if she stopped fortune telling, she wouldn't be able to take care of her daughter. It was quite heartbreaking.

"Prior to this, I had quite recently stumbled upon a nursing position that required very little experience. My younger sister wanted a career, or so she said. She's so spoiled though; I didn't believe that she could handle it. So I informed your mother and gave my recommendation. I didn't think she'd pursue it, but I came in one day and she told me that it was her last night telling fortunes, and that she was ever so grateful for my help. She asked how she could repay me. I don't know what came over me, and I am quite embarrassed admitting that this actually happened, but I kissed her."

_That's a little cliché_, Hazel thought. His payment was a kiss. How many sappy romance novels had she read that in? Probably none, since she didn't really like to read, but she supposed in would be a dream to have it play out in reality. John continued.

"I was so embarrassed that I up and left without saying goodbye, thinking that we'd never see each other again. A few weeks later, when I came early to the store relieve the night guard, I heard a voice behind me. She said something like, "I didn't know you owned this place. I suppose that's how you could afford to visit me nearly every night," and I turned around. I did think she looked rather lovely in nurse's attire, but I was so embarrassed over what I'd done the last time I'd seen her that I didn't comment. I hardly said anything. I still remember her leaning over that rail." He glanced at the rail outside. _Yeah, _Hazel thought, _it wasn't _that_ long ago_, but she kept quiet. "She was on her way to her shift at the hospital," John clarified. "She would still stop and talk to me, though. Every day," he said, a bit wistfully, Hazel thought. "Except once. One morning she tried to rush past me, saying that she couldn't talk. I stopped her though, and she told me that she had been reprimanded for being late to her shift nearly every morning. Naturally, I felt awful for keeping her, so I let her go immediately. After that she stopped coming in the mornings. I would keep one eye on the window, waiting for her to pass, but she never did. I considered going back to her—your—home—I was that desperate to see her again, and I nearly did. Then I caught her hurrying past the shop one afternoon. She'd had her shift changed because she was continuously late and wouldn't be seeing me in the mornings anymore. That was what finally drove me to asking her out to dinner. Only because I knew I wouldn't see her anymore otherwise. She said yes and here we are."

Hazel blinked. That certainly had been a mouthful. According to John's story he was either in love with her mother or so deeply obsessed and infatuated with her that he felt it necessary to ask her hand in marriage. _Is there really a difference? _She reasoned. There wasn't, she decided.

"Uh…" she wasn't sure how to respond to John's little anecdote. Instead she let her eyes sweep over the rings until she found one that she couldn't tear her eyes away from. "I think she'd like that one," she said, pressing her finger up to the glass. John turned the key in the lock.

"This one?" he confirmed, holding up the sparkling diamond for Hazel to see. She purposely averted her eyes from the price and nodded. "My story convinced you, I assume?" He asked with a smile, slipping the box into his pocket. _Good Lord, _Hazel thought with alarm. Was he planning to propose tonight?

"I'll head home now," Hazel said quickly. "Like I said early, I'm not feeling so well." It was true. She couldn't believe she would be behind yet another death, and on Christmas. She felt sick to her stomach. Plus, she wasn't sure how much longer she could stand looking at all of these expensive jewels. She didn't know much about her father, but she knew that it was he who was the god of precious stones. She should feel at home in this place, in her father's domain, but all she wanted was to leave as quickly as she could.

John frowned. "I wouldn't want to bother your mother. She looked exhausted." Frustration flared up in Hazel. Though she did like John, spending time alone with him was less than comfortable. "I'll buy you some new bandages in the drug store and send you home with them."

Hazel held back a sigh. "Alright." She supposed she couldn't deny him that, and they were running low on bandages. John pushed the gate open and unlocked the door, holding it for Hazel to exit. She managed a small smile before she left the shop.

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><p><strong>Sorry if you thought that was a little boring, guys. I just felt like I needed to get that background information out of the way. And sorry that I didn't update sooner. This was just sitting on my computer all week, and it was like 98% finished. I promise we'll get back to HazelxSammy soon!<strong>

**But please, please, please review! I really want to know what you think of this chapter and the story in general. If you like it subscribe, and I will eternally grateful! For those of you who are new (or have forgotten) a review gets you into the Hall Of Fame, and for each review I will add 100 words to the chapter to show that I care :) Thank you so much! **


	13. Chapter 12

**First post of the New Year! Yay! Let me start by apologizing for the update wait.. Yeah, my bad? I could make a bunch of lame excuses, but I will save my breath. I have been busy, as usual. I got a dog for Christmas, and I have had to devote an unprecedented amount of time to said dog, mostly because she is likely the most monstrously disobedient domesticated animal to walk this Earth. Anyway, that's a story for another day. **

**I've got a nice, long chapter for you. I've made good on my 100 extra word promise, and then some. But I did edit this chapter! A little bit. But you know. When you're your own beta you can only do so much. Moving on. **

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><p>Hazel sat down on the edge of her window seat, glancing down at the busy New Orleans street below. Last minute Christmas shopping, Hazel thought. Snow was still falling lightly, which she found hard to believe. It was somewhat of a Christmas miracle, despite the fact that it wasn't Christmas yet. In the dying light, she couldn't help but wonder if this might be a sign from her father, or some kind of blessing or present. Or maybe it was just pure coincidence. Either way, she had a feeling it was going to be a good Christmas. She was going to Sammy's the next day, and she couldn't wait.<p>

She crept down the stairs, peeking around the corner into the living room. Her mother was still on the sofa. The seat always seemed to be occupied now, either by her mother or John. Her mother had an old afghan draped around her shoulders, and a steaming mug in her hands. She was staring into space. Hazel thought of going down and switching the radio on, but she wasn't sure she could sit next to her mother without spilling the secret John had entrusted her with.

Hazel had known John for all of about three days, and he was now going to be a part of her family. What was more unbelievable was the Hazel actually didn't mind. The change would be nice, and she could tell that John really cared about her mother—and even her.

Hazel went down into the kitchen to heat up a pan for soup. She rifled through the cabinets, but they were bare. There was nothing to make soup _with_, not even a wilted carrot or two. She would have to go out and buy something, but she doubted that there would be much food available—or that they had any money. She still had some upstairs, but she was more than a little hesitant to use that now, since it had brought harm to so many people. She wondered if she could find John—maybe he was still at the store—but she didn't want to seem desperate.

"Mother, there's nothing to eat," Hazel called into the sitting room. Her mother glanced up from her mug.

"I know," she said, taking another sip. "I threw it all out. I thought you wouldn't mind going hungry for the night."

Hazel gaped. Never had her mother ever thrown out food before. Ever. "Why?" she demanded. _This had better be good,_ she thought. She wasn't about to go hungry on Christmas Eve for no good reason.

"We won't be able to take food with us." Hazel frowned. "John wants us to move in with him as soon as possible," Marie said, standing up. "He's having our things moved out tomorrow so we can comfortably spend the day with him." Her mother was beaming. "I think he's even got presents for you, Hazel. Isn't it wonderful?"

Hazel stared. It was one thing to imagine fleeing her drab, shoebox home, but actually uprooting with only a day's notice was another. Her mind was as far as it could have been from presents.

"But Mother, you're not even married." Yet. It was decided, but her mother knew nothing about it. Besides, there were arrangements that still had to be made, she had no idea where John lived, she had friends here—she had Sammy.

"I can feel it coming, Hazel." Her mother was smiling broadly. "It's only just around the corner, darling, I'm sure of it." She folded up the afghan and set it down on the sofa. "We'll finally have the life that we deserve, Hazel. I knew it would happen someday."

Hazel thought of the vision her father had sent her through her dreams, and couldn't help but wonder if her mother really was worthy. It was a rude thought, she knew, but couldn't let go of it. "You're sure?" she asked.

Her mother didn't answer. "I'm going down to the basement to look for some boxes. Of course, we won't be keeping most of our things, but I do want to at least take some of my clothes, and maybe our pots and pans, though I doubt I'll have to do much cooking." She hurried downstairs.

Hazel felt as if one of those big, boxy Fords from the street had plowed into her. Better yet, it was still dragging her down the street by its front axle. Needless to say, it was not a good feeling. She sat down where her mother had been before. In the vision, she had seemed so hopelessly in love with Pluto, in love to the point that it seemed she would never recover from his abandonment. How easy was it to fall out of love? Granted, it had been nearly a decade, but one simply doesn't forget what once was.

She thought of Sammy. He had slipped her mind lately, with his strange behavior in the park and all that had happened within the course of a few hours. She wondered how many people's Christmases she had ruined with her diamonds. Too many. And then there was the business with John and her mother, and the moving. She didn't want to think about it. All she wanted to think about was Sammy's hair, and his eyes, and the way he smiled at her, and how nice it felt when they were together.

She sat there for a while, thinking of their date at Quickman's Stables, and the cupcake he had sneaked away from his mother's dinner party just for her. She smiled to herself. Her mother finally emerged from the basement, with all of two boxes to show for her hours down there. Hazel wasn't all too pleased to have any boxes at all.

"We haven't got a lot of boxes," her mother said, setting the two she had found on the floor, "but we do have a lot of old things down there." Something glinted in her mother's hand. Hazel craned her neck to see it, but her mother moved her hand, tucking it securely into the pocket of her frock. "I didn't find anything interesting down there, but if you'd like to keep a thing or two, I wouldn't object, dear. Go on and look, then get to bed. We've got a lot to do tomorrow."

Hazel huffed past her mother. It was getting late, and it was now completely dark outside. The street lanterns were flickering on slowly, one at a time. Hazel never noticed that before, them coming on in succession. And the glow was different somehow, a little bit warmer and redder than usual. Jingles bells were tinkling in the distance, and she swore she heard a dove cooing, though she must have been mistaken.

She descended the stairs carefully, since the basement stairwell wasn't lit. She supposed she could have entered from outside, like her mother's customers had when the fortune telling business had still been downstairs, but it was cold, and it seemed impractical. At least, it seemed that way until she felt dozens of cold, tiny objects beneath bare her feet.

Hazel took the rest of the stair two and three at a time from then on, stumbling down the final few. She lifted one her feet to see if she could find what she had been treading over. Her mother had left the light on, and in the dull glow she was able to discern that something was stuck to her heel. It was small, and a translucent red color. Hazel had seen a few of them before when the farmer's market had come down town. It was a pomegranate seed. Why they would be in her basement, she wasn't sure, but she had a strange feeling about it.

She turned around and immediately tripped over something her mother must have left in front of the stairs. It was an old photo album. She picked it up, sitting on the last step. The first few pages were blank, so she kept turning. It wasn't until the last page that she saw something. There were two pictures: one was of her parents standing in front of the Empire State Building in New York City. Her mother looked striking and slim in a dress that Hazel assumed was red—the picture was in black and white—and her father was the godly figure you would expect. The other was of her mother, and a suspiciously familiar looking baby. The baby was, of course, Hazel. She must have been only a few weeks old when this was taken.

She slammed the book closed, not wanting to look at the picture for some odd reason. Something fell to the ground, glinting before it hit the cement floor, almost like what her mother had held in her hand earlier. She picked it up. It was a ruby stone about the size of a grape. She was baffled. Her mother had been hiding that down here, in photo album? Why had they kept it? Why hadn't they sold it and moved out of this shack a long, long time ago?

A thought suddenly occurred to her. Could it be that—

"Don't think too much, honey pie," a voice said. Hazel's head snapped up and she gaped. Before her stood the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She was description-less, and almost impossible to look at. Looking back, Hazel could hardly remember what she'd seen. She couldn't decide whether or not she'd seen blonde hair, or red hair, or brown hair, or black—she couldn't decide anything. She wore a red gown, so long that it dragged on the floor. The edges were adorned with gold and roses. "You'll hurt your head." Hazel didn't stop staring.

The goddess—at least that's what Hazel thought she was—sat down on the steps beside her. "I know you're having a problem, honey. That's why I'm here," she patted Hazel's head. "I'm Venus, by the way. We all know about you, Hazel Levesque. By all the gods, your father couldn't stop talking about you if he tried."

"He talks about me?" Hazel managed to ask. She couldn't believe it. Her father had so many children, and he had singled her out. She wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing.

"Yes, yes, but don't let it go to your head, love. And don't look so shock to see me, either. I sent you as many signs as I could without blowing up your house," Venus said. "But I'm doing the talking, not you."

"Why are you here?" Hazel asked. She wasn't quite sure whether or not that was a good idea. Venus could zap her out of existence if that was what she pleased, and gods sometimes didn't like to have their actions questioned.

"Hush, hush," Venus scolded. "I already said that I was going to do the talking today. I have a message to deliver. It's strange, Hazel, so be prepared. Are you ready?"

Hazel nodded.

"Good. No words, just like I wanted," Venus's smile gleaming like a million little white stars. "Well, I'm no oracle, so this isn't going to be very poetic. Strange things are coming this way, Hazel. Stranger than you could ever imagine."

"Coming to New Orleans?" Hazel interrupted.

Venus tutted. "Don't speak. And no, not to New Orleans. To wherever you are, Hazel. You've been lucky so far—no monsters have yet terrorized you, but only because your father seen to that. But he can't hold them back any longer. He's already stretched his limits—we gods are not allowed to meddle in mortal's lives. You're powerful, Hazel. But you're putting mortals around you at risk. That's where the love comes in. I know all the love in the world, darling. I decreed it. But love for you is dangerous, daughter of Pluto. You've been drawing things out from the earth lately, haven't you? I know your mother and your daddy brought this curse upon you, but know that you will have to deal the repercussions."

"What are these "repercussions"?" Hazel asked. She was getting worried now.

Venus sighed dramatically. "I've said too much already. But know that Gaea is rising, Hazel. Remember that." She stood up, brushing off her long, flowing gown. "And good luck with your little crush." She winked, and with another dazzling smile, she was gone.

Hazel's mind was reeling. Who was Gaea, and what did it matter if she was coming? The fact that she was rising did sound very foreboding, though. But what she was most worried about was Sammy. She couldn't imagine ever purposely putting him in danger, but she wondered if was doing that same thing by simply being around him. She wasn't sure what could happen, but if monsters were supposedly preparing to ravage the streets of New Orleans sometime soon, she doubted that anyone would be safe, Sammy included.

Hazel still hadn't gotten her thoughts straight, but she decided that it was probably a good time to get some sleep. She was going to be moving in with John tomorrow, right? And the long awaited Christmas dinner was drawing nearer by the second. She could set her troubles aside for long enough to enjoy one evening, right? She slipped the ruby into her pocket and rushed up the stairs, bumping into her mother at the top.

"Did you find anything you wanted?" she asked. Hazel's stare must have been blank enough for her mother recognized that something hadn't processed. "To bring with us?"

Hazel shook her head. Her heart was pounding, and her hands were shaking. "Trash it. It's all junk." She hoped there wasn't anything she actually wanted down there, but she had other things on her mind right now.

"Alright," her mother said, shutting the door. "Your hair looks nice."

Hazel reached up to touch her head. Her hair was platted into a single braid. "Thanks," she said. "And good night. Merry Christmas, Mother."

Hazel darted upstairs without waiting for a reply. When she was up in her room, she pulled the ruby out of her pocket and gazed into its red surface in the moonlight, listening to the sleigh bells outside.

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><p><strong><strong>I've been having writers block. I don't know if I already admitted this, but I literally have been making this up as I go along. Wingin' it. I think up plausible plot devices in my spare time. And I know what you're all thinking: "You idiot. You already have the ultimate plot device! Just get to the part where Hazel and Sammy kiss under the mistletoe!" or some variation of that thought. All in good time, my good children, all in good time. And just for the record, the mistletoe things totally doesn't happen ;) No, it really doesn't. <strong>**

****100 extra words for each review! I love you all! Please review! Seeing what you all think of my story is the highlight of my life. ****

****Thank you for reading!****


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